


The Silent Ones

by kirschtrash



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Blood, Blood and Gore, Creepy, Fighting, Gore, M/M, Mystery, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Marco Bott, Panic, Panic Attacks, Swearing, Trost, Weapons, Zombies, cool-ass name, hella awesome masks and clothes, jeanmarco, survey corps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 20:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 72,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2401334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirschtrash/pseuds/kirschtrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything changed for mankind, when the infestation of zombies plagued our survival and sanity. No place on Earth was considered safe anymore.</p><p>I’m Marco Bodt, one of the few remaining survivors of Trost; possibly the last. I was about to suffer the same bloody end, if it were not for Jean Kirschtein.</p><p>This is my story; of how I joined hands with other survivors to end this rule of zombies over us. This is the resurgence of Humanity against the clutches of zombies.<br/>Most of all, this is our story; mine and Jean Kirschtein's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Life Saver

**The Silent Ones.**

 

**_Life Saver_ **

 

I never asked for this.

All I ever wanted was a peaceful life, with a nice family, and a successful career with no _danger_.

But I never asked for _this_.

 

All that echoed in the abandoned super-market was the sound of my hurried footsteps that slid across marble tiles as I ran for my life. My roughed-up sneakers squeaked as I slid across the tiles, making a turn for a dark, stranded aisle. I hid behind a rack of cereal boxes, my breath ragged.

The only light bulb that dangled from the ceiling kept flickering on and off. I kept a hand over my mouth to make less sound as possible. I crouched as low as I could.

 

I heard a clang. Then some boxes fell. My breathing stopped

I heard a deep, almost hungry rumble. It echoed through all the aisles.

I was shaking terribly. Sweat trickled down my forehead in thick beads. Don't see me.

 

_Thud. Thud._

I heard the scratching of sharp nails across marble.

 

The light flickered, and then died. Darkness engulfed everything from my sight. My heart was racing.

 

I heard the deep rumbling and growling come from behind my aisle; like a tiger’s growl, except this one was louder, bolder, and set in the fear of Death in anyone who heard it.

I screwed my eyes shut, trying to be as insignificant as I could. Don't see me, please don't see me.

With every _thud_ , it came closer. I could practically feel its sinister presence somewhere near me. I hoped beyond all hopes for it to ignore me and _just doesn't fucking see me_.

 

Please God above don't let it see me please no no n-

 

I _felt_ \- not just heard - its snarl right over my head. Its damp breath fanned across my hair. I froze all over; dread crept in to me like a cold weight on my shoulders.

Fuck.

Just as I looked up, I saw its ugly distorted face making a humorless grin. It hung upside down, right over me. It was so fucking close. There was practically no light, and even then I could see its grimy, yellow teeth, black from the edges. I could even breathe its unclean, rotten stench. My eyes were wide. I dared not move an inch.

 

In a second, it screeched at my face, strings of saliva sticking on my face. I was screaming, and just at that very fucking moment I instantly got up and made a run for it. I ran towards the center of the super-market, where only one tube-light was lit. I felt as if I were flying; I was running so fast.

 _It_ , on the other hand, was cackling with a high-pitched voice. I turned, not daring to stop. But I saw it just stand and laugh. It was not even moving; just standing, mocking me with its grimy, yellow teeth, glistening under the dim light of the super-market. Was it giving me some sort of a fucking _head start_ or...?

I cursed the thought, because right then, it looked at me with a dead stare teamed with the same creepy smile, and fell on all four limbs. It started to fucking crawl. It crawled on the shelves and galloped from one shelf towards the other, laughing with the same voice. The screeching of its nails across cement and metal resonated across the stranded area.

I let out a whimper, and turned down an aisle. I ran as fast as I could. I dodged abandoned trolleys and pieces of broken jars. The floor was a mass mess of carts and broken items left abandoned in the hurry of evacuation.

I swung a trolley at it to slow it down, but it only head-butted it, and sent it flying across the other corner of the room. It fucking crawled upside down on the ceiling, and kept of cackling in that sick, gravelly voice it had. I didn't even look back. As I turned in to another aisle, it jumped off the ceiling, and almost caught me, letting out a shriek that made my eyes water. I dodged its claw-like hands, and ran in to another aisle. I didn't care to look back.

 

I never fucking asked for this.

 

I ran at the speed of a fucking mile per second. I could not hear it anymore. But I didn't slow myself down. Rather, I ran faster.

I tried to find the back door. I saw it at the end of the aisle. I ran to it, and turned the knob. It did not turn. I pulled at it hard, but it did not budge at all. In frustration, I punched the door. I pulled the knob harder. I kicked it, but it would just not fucking open.

The kick I aimed at it created a fuck-ton of noise; _big mistake._ I stood still as I heard the same wet, hungry gurgling noises of its breathing come from behind me. I turned slowly, and yes, there it was; giving me the most hideous look it could muster with such a distorted face. It ran towards me with such speed that it didn't take even two seconds and before I knew it, it aimed a fucking round-house kick at my chest. I was hurled to the other corner of the aisle, back hitting the edge of the metal shelf.

I coughed from the impact, already tasting the metallic taste of blood. I quickly scrambled to my feet, trying to ignore the shooting pain I felt in my chest and back while doing so. I just had to fucking get out of there.

I turned to the aisle next it, surrounded by jars. A single bulb only dangled and flickered from the ceiling, giving everything that I cast my eyes on a sinister look. I ran with only one note in mind: I have to get out have to get out have to get out have to-

 

 _Fuck_.

 

It led to a dead end.

 

I turned, and saw the zombie, standing at the other end. Its arms hung limply at its sides, and clothes tattered from everywhere. In the dimly-lit aisle, all I could see were its large, lidless eyes, with too much white around them, and the iris completely black. It looked at me with its dead stare. Its mouth slowly opened. Its tongue fell out of its jaw, the tip dripping with some black slimy fluid, all the while _smiling._ It was humming a merry tune in a grainy, dreadful voice that made me grit my teeth. 

I felt dread creep in my limbs, brain, and heart, everywhere. My eyes stung with tears. Maybe some fell, I could not tell. Was Death staring at me right now? Should I call these years of pathetic idleness I had spent my life?

I never asked for this.

All I ever wanted was a peaceful and long life.

Not _this_.

 

The zombie took a step forward. I closed my eyes, preparing for the brutal impact. _Did life have to be so cruel?_

Just as the thought flitted through my mind, I heard a gritty squeal, that made my ears hurt. The other second, I heard a sick, wet _CRUNCH_ of bones breaking under flesh. The instant I opened my eyes, I saw a hooded figure fling the now-broken zombie across the alley almost flawlessly. The person smoothly walked towards the scrambling zombie, a bloody scythe in one hand. The person leveled himself with the corpse on the ground. The guy mercilessly dug his scythe in to its guts, and forcefully turned it, letting out a loud squelching noise that made me nauseous. The stranger - _he_ , apparently - gave me a swift glance, and all I saw were hard, amber eyes under the darkness of his hood.

This time, he slammed the body in to the alley of jars in front of him without even a grunt. A hundred jars crashed on to it. The crashing and crushing of glass shards was deafening. I shielded myself from the shards flinging everywhere. As the cascading stopped, he dug around in the heap with his foot. He reached a gloved hand in the heap, and lifted the now-bloody and beat-up zombie. It still managed to make a sick grin, made of broken and black, bloody teeth. It breathed raggedly.

He just stared. Then, in a split second, he lifted his scythe and slashed its head off in one go. The black blood that sprayed everywhere managed to meet me across the alley. It landed on me, some sprayed on my cheeks.

A sudden sort of silence filled the atmosphere. I think I had forgotten to breathe. When I did breathe, all I breathed in was the horrible stench of gore and zombie guts. It instantly made me throw up. I turned my head and puked out everything until nothing was left.

Panting, I wiped my mouth. I looked up to see the stranger with his hood still over him, his mouth covered with a black mask that had a set of skeleton teeth. He took off the hood, showing his brass-colored hair roughed up, with a dark-brown undercut. He took off his mask as well, and wiped the black blood off of his cheek with an almost bored sigh.

He looked at me. He approached me hurriedly, crouched down, and lent me a hand. I couldn't even bring myself to blink, let alone hold his hand; I was in deep shock.

I stared.

He snapped his fingers in front of me. "Hey, hey! C'mon! Stay with me here! More are gonna come here, so you're gonna have to get up! Hey, guys! He's gonna fucking go out, we need back-up -"

He was screaming something behind him, I wasn't even sure. I was trying hard not to lose my sanity.

"Back-up's coming, don't go out. Got a name?" He asked, quickly checking my wallet for my I.D.

"Uh... M-marco."

"Good. I'm Jean Kirschtein, and you're welcome for saving your ass back there." He said, checking my eyes as some doctor would.

I vaguely remember letting out a wheeze-of-a-laugh, and instantly blacking out.

 

* * *

 

I think I owe you an explanation for why zombies were chasing me in a super-market.

 

And I’ll tell you.

 

Ours was the proud city of Trost, with the best-of-the-best people, and basically a place that never slept. It was so, until zombies eventually attacked it. Not plain zombies; the kinds that turned you in to one by biting you, if you weren't fast or wise enough.

Almost the entire world was attacked by this mass of the un-dead; they were everywhere. No place was considered safe on Earth anymore.

The fucked-up government thought that by fencing up Trost, we could ‘slow’ the mass spread of zombies from reaching any other place. This so-called strategy was made ‘to work for the greater good’, as they fucking put it. Like that, they and all other wealthy fuckers left Trost and stayed in some bunkers they built for themselves, while the common people of Trost suffered and tried to desperately keep themselves alive.

I’m Marco Bodt, one of the few remaining survivors of Trost; possibly the last now, hopefully not.

I saw my loved ones, and other innocent people die at the hands of these creatures that plagued our survival and sanity. I myself was about to suffer the same fate.

I could have died myself. I had given up all hope back there at the super market.

I could have, if it weren't for Jean Kirschtein.

 

*

 

“He’s still out?”

“Mm-hmm.”

A pause.

“What kind of zombie was it this time?”

“An Abnormal. This one could sing, apparently.”

 

I heard some laughter. That was what woke me up. I cracked an eye open. I didn't recognize the dark-blue ceiling, and I didn't recognize the red draping over the bed I laid on, like at a hospital.

This time I opened both my eyes, and stared at the ceiling, trying to make some sense of why every fucking part of me hurt like some boulders kept on my chest. It took me some time and a few blinks to remember it all.

My eyes tore wide open. Panic rose within me like a bubble, and I sat up straight as a bolt. Well, at least I tried to, because suddenly my whole torso burned with such fucking pain, that I let out a loud, broken grunt. I bit my lip to stop myself from screaming. I lay down again, and lowered the dark sheets over my chest. My whole chest was covered with white bandages, having some splotches of dark blood here and there. My lower lip quivered.

My eyes burned with tears, and I was shivering all over, even though sweat bordered my hairline. The guys must have heard my struggling noises, for three people entered in a hustle. A short lady with short ginger-colored hair came to me and inspected my wounds.

As she did so, I looked at the other two men. One was a bald guy, cleaning his nails with a dagger intently. The other one had a leather hood over his head. All I could see in the dim light of the cramped room was his hard, amber gaze.

I think I had recognized him just fine, and it was amazing how it took me almost no time.

I didn’t even notice for how long I was staring at him, because the lady had already finished checking my wounds. She looked at me with a kind stare, with her large, hazel eyes.

Before I could even ask my question, she answered it for me, “There is nothing critical to your condition; just a few broken ribs and a concussion, nothing more.”  
She said ‘nothing more’ as if it could have gone way more fucking worse than it already had. The mere prospect of _‘worse’_ made me gulp through my dry throat continuously.

“Hey, at least you’re alive here,” she reassured. “Most aren’t that lucky.” She shrugged, helpless. “I think we should introduce ourselves.” She stood up, squared her shoulders defiantly, and said:

“I’m Petra; Petra Ral. I’m, you can say, the caretaker of all recruits here. They get a scratch or a bruise, they come to me.”

The bald guy piped up from behind, “I’m Connie; one of the recruits from the Corps.” He waved his hand – with the dagger.

“It’s your turn, Sour-puss.” she called to the hooded man standing at the corner.

He turned, and glared at her, “He knows who I am. I’m the one who saved him. And besides, we had our fair-share of exchanges back there, didn’t we?” He turned his sharp glance at me. I practically flinched. I nodded quickly.

Petra chuckled, turned to him, and said, “Sure thing, Sourpuss.” Connie laughed at the back.

“Don’t call me that.” He mumbled.

“Fine, fine; I won’t. By the way, that lovely man back there is Jean. You’re gonna see a lot of that if you stay here with our recruits for long.”

Jean, apparently, snapped another angry glare at her. She totally seemed unfazed. It could have been their thing, for all I knew.

“What are these ‘recruits’? Recruits for what…?” I asked uncertainly, but she cut me off.

“You’ll know that soon enough. We are gonna leave in a while for the headquarters. Besides, we aren’t in a particularly safe place. They've got something really important to talk to you about.”

Things like these are what I don’t want to hear - let alone _face_ \- after being chased by a zombie, I’ll give you that.

Seeing my hesitation, she started reassuring me. “They will explain everything; you don’t have to hurry with all this. Dwelling and worrying over it won’t do any good. Just rest here; Connie and Jean will give you company.” She almost explained it in such a motherly tone, that I instantly felt better. But even still the slight anxiety was threatening to grow hard and fast.

She picked her surgical instruments, and left us three alone in the room. I rested against the pillow under me, just trying to guess how my life has spiraled all the way till being chased by a fucking zombie.

 

Ten – maybe twenty – minutes passed, and even then no such carriage came to take us to the ‘headquarters’. My hands felt clammy and sweaty, and my breathing became labored as I waited for the ‘news’ Petra promised me with brutal anticipation.

Jean visibly looked uncomfortable too; he kept glancing at his wrist-watch, and tapped his foot impatiently. He and Connie paced the room. They were waiting anxiously too – as if something would definitely happen if they weren’t fast enough.

All of a sudden, a mixture of howls and screams and screeches erupted from outside. They were so loud, that all my hair stood on their ends, and I resisted from gritting my teeth. Jean and Connie stopped, and made their way to the window nearest to the right side of my bed.

They pushed the curtain aside a little, and peeked. Immediately, their expressions went from inactive to these hard expressions of determination and hatred combined.

“Fuck.” Jean swore.

“They’re everywhere.” Connie completed for him.

“Connie, go and tell them to fucking bring the goddamn truck already, we’re running out of time.”

“I’m on it.” With that, Connie ran for the door, and left in a hurry.

I instantly knew what ‘they’ were. Even I recoiled at the thought.

“Zombies?” I asked, matter-of-factly.

“Mm-hmm. Not just one.” He pulled the whole, and I could see what he was talking about. I pushed myself a little upwards to get a better view. Even when I knew what they were, the sight still shocked me.

They were swarmed around the round-about. They started a huge fire around it, and began howling and bawling in horrid and gritty voices again. They were far, but even then I could make out some of the details; they threw their hands up in the air, some with one or both of their hands missing, and some with their tongues lolling out of their mouths.

“They’re multiplying, no matter how much we kill.” Jean licked his lips uncertainly, and removed his hood. Once more, I saw his brass-colored hair, with a dark under-cut.

He continued, “Not only that, they’ve been shouting like that for a long time too; as if they’ve fucking won something. And that is what scares us.”

He sighed, rubbed his face in exhaustion, and popped a cigarette in his mouth, lighting it as instantly as he put it between his teeth. He took one long pull at it, and breathed the heavy smoke out, calmly

“So, how did you end up there alone?” He asked, exhaling a plume of smoke.

I didn’t even know myself. I vaguely remember going in there for something to eat, or maybe drink, or…

“I-I don’t know…” I sighed, rubbing my face. I was just fucking tired. He offered me his cigarette when he noticed my hesitation. I just gave him a blank look that clearly read _‘Really’_

He smirked with one corner of his mouth, and went on smoking. He said, “Now that old cliché ‘Life’s too short’ makes perfect sense, y’know? Life is literally numbered now. Nothing’s gonna fucking stop me from smoking, when I can possibly die in so many other ways.” He laughed.

I seriously wanted to tell him that that was a fucking weird ideology, but I couldn’t stop myself from nodding. He was right at the ‘numbered’ part.

There came a two-minute pause. Then the door opened in a rush and a slam. It was Connie, and some other tall man with full gear, strapped with leather. He wore a gas mask that hung loosely around his neck. Both had these horrid expressions of doom, with that same steely look of determination I saw earlier.

Connie nodded to Jean, and they just seemed to talk through expressions.

Jean threw the butt of his cigarette, and turned to me, and said, “It’s time. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 

The three took large guns, strapping them behind their backs. Two men – Connie and that other guy – dragged me out of the building. Some thuds and a fuck-ton of grunts of pain later, we came to the ground floor. It looked like an old apartment. It was abandoned, that I could tell, from the peeling wall-paper and turned-over furniture in the way. Some walls were splattered with blood, at which I paled all-over.

“Don’t you dare go out on us right now, man.” Connie grunted, as he saw my color change.

We crossed the reception area, which was also empty, with a layer of dust over everything, and nothing but smears of blood – black and red – splattered on the floor and walls. I tried to not lay eyes on those.

We made to the back-door, and carefully made our way outside. The air was strong, and cold. It bit and stung in to my wounds, and I almost screamed. The other guy covered my mouth. Everyone went instantly quite, as we all leaned against a building.

I heard those zombies make the same howling noises. My eyes watered; the noise was so fucking _sharp_. Jean slid towards the edge of the building, where the dingy alley opened to the main road. As he looked out, he leaned back in, and swore.

“Fuck. They’re too many.” He looked back out again, and backed away again. He turned towards the stranger, “Where’s the wagon, Franz?”

“It’s not that far away. We have to cross the road, though. There.” He said, in a deep voice. He pointed towards another alley, just across the street. If you squinted hard enough, you could make out a shape of a van in the end.

Jean stood still for a minute. Then he spoke fast, “There isn’t anything else we can do but run. Fast. They won’t notice if we don’t make much noise. We’ll wait for them to make some noise then we will run; that way they won’t hear us. And don’t stop, at any cost. You two, “he pointed at Connie and Franz “-drag Marco there. I’ll cover you guys from the back; any questions?”

“No one’s gonna die, will they?” Connie asked uncertainly.

Jean looked at him, and smirked, which was extremely sly and evil, but with enough tenacity. He answered, matter-of-factly:

“Not if you’re fast enough.”

 

-

 

The zombies made those shrieking sounds again after five minutes. With that, Franz and Connie dragged me across the road, in to the open. I tried walking too. Not much help though.

As I turned my head, I saw Jean come in behind us, his heavy firearm in his tight grip, as he walked backwards. He kept a close eye on those zombies, who hadn’t stopped their ruckus. He wore the same skeleton-teeth mask over his mouth, as he stood tall. Bravery and determination literally radiated from him.

We safely crossed the road, and were in the alley by now. We were all grunting, and went to the wagon. It was definitely not a wagon; it was huge, with an opening on the top, and a machine-gun on top of it. At the moment, it was empty. The back-doors – made of heavy metal – were open and an Asian girl with cropped black hair was violently motioning us to hurry the fuck up.

They heaved me in the wagon, and after Jean entered too, they slammed the doors shut. Someone in the front revved the engine. As it started, it created a lot of noise that echoed through the vacant street.

All at once, the zombies’ commotion outside ceased. An eerie kind of silence filled the atmosphere. We waited. Nothing was heard except anticipated breaths.

All of a sudden, growling, hungry sounds came. They were hungry.

And hundreds of zombies just fucking heard us.

“Ymir! Just fucking DRIVE!” A guy with large, frightened green eyes inside the wagon screamed to the driver. And in the same second, the wagon revved loudly and we were shot straight ahead. We made our way out on the road. We did not stop accelerating.

I inched a little upwards to see from the small windows on the doors. Immediately I regretted the decision.

My eyes grew wide as I saw; a whole fucking army of hungry zombies were behind us, all running at full speed.

“Mikasa! Gun ‘em down!” The driver – Ymir – shouted at the girl with short black hair. Without another word, she stood, opened the latch of the roof, and made to fire the zombies.

In a split second, I heard the constant spewing of bullets on the zombies trailing us. I saw one after the other fall, and the others trip over the fallen, as she effortlessly shot them down without a single bullet going to waste.

She continued this until the bulk finished. As the crowd finished, she got down. She did not even break a sweat, although she was panting, and had a wild look in her wide, grey eyes.

We were relatively calm now, as Ymir continued driving. We felt safer.

All that was to go down the drain, as a huge dent was slammed in the door from outside in a fucking second.

Looking through the window, I saw one remaining zombie, who had latched itself on the railings. It wasn’t letting go.

Jean stood, and opened the door with one hand. The zombie instantly charged at him.

But Jean was quicker. He punched it, and stomped on its hands, which were holding the railings. It let a loud shriek of pain. He picked his scythe, and dug it in the zombie’s guts. He fucking picked the scythe – with the zombie hooked in to it. He made a snarl at it, whereas it was looking at him with a dead expression.

He grunted, and lifted the body. He threw it in the air, and then sliced it in to two parts, from the middle. The bits and pieces fell on the road, which was going further and further away.

Jean sat down heavily next to me. He didn’t even look at anyone – he just stared down, still panting. He pulled his mask over his mouth, and still didn’t look up.

“Is it fucking gone yet?” Ymir asked.

“Yeah, it is. Just take us to the headquarters already.” A short, blond guy said, releasing a calming exhale. She laughed, and accelerated the wagon. I completely zoned out after that.

The rush of energy and fear was still heavy over me.

 

-

 

The rest of the ride was relatively peaceful. After around 15 minutes, we reached our destination. The wagon stopped, and Connie and Franz once again dragged me out the wagon. They led me inside this huge building, completely covered with metal. Heavily-suited guards bordered the building, and some were on the rooftops. It was hidden within trees, far off from the city.

As we entered inside, I noticed almost everything was fucking made of metal; the walls, floor, everything. I was led to a narrow hallway in the far left. By now, only Jean, Connie and Franz were with me. I was escorted to a door, labeled with bold letters:

“ **HEADS OF THE SURVEY CORPS.** ”

I gave a quizzical expression, but that would be for later, for I was dragged inside it. It was colder, and quieter from the outside. A wooden desk stood in the middle. A blond, stern man sat there, with another shorter man leaning against the desk. He had black hair, with an undercut beneath it. His expression was hard as steel, with a rather bored expression. His eyebrows were knotted in the middle, in thought.

The blond man had his fingers clasped together, both hands under his chin. His blue eyes scanned mine. It was as if he were analyzing me; how I functioned, and how I could be broken.

I knew instantly I should not be messing with them.

Connie and Franz made me sit on the seat in front of the desk. Then they went on their way.

“Any casualties?” The dark-haired one asked, in a bored sigh.

“No, Commander Levi. They did attack, but we managed.” Jean replied with a stern, soldier-like expression.

He nodded. “You may go now.”

Jean nodded in return. Before leaving, he placed his hand on my right shoulder, and squeezed it reassuringly. Then he left, with a click of the door.

Only as I sat alone did I notice how tired and sore I was. I was hurting all-over. My chest was burning with pain even more. My head hurt, and I just wanted a long rest. But even I knew I had more important things at hand.

The blond man cleared his throat. He started, with a deep voice:

“Hello, Marco. I’m Commander Erwin Smith of the Survey Corps, and this is our Second-in-Command, Commander Levi Ackerman.” He said, pointing at the black-haired one, who looked at me with grey, half lidded eyes. “We lead this organization called ‘Survey Corps’ to fight – and possibly end - the infestation of zombies.”

“The Survey Cor-“

“Don’t interrupt at the moment, brat.” Commander Levi snapped at me. I instantly shut up.

“Levi, you’re too harsh.” Commander Erwin said. Commander Levi just muttered a “Tch” under his breath as he rolled his eyes.

“There is a lot to explain, I know. We know what you went through, and we know there are too many questions in your mind at the moment. But it is better to cut to the chase. You can learn the rest slowly, in your own time.” Then a pause ensued.

“Cut to the chase with what?” I dared to ask, as the silence elapsed.

Commander Levi bowed his head, and turned to Commander Erwin. His hair fell on his forehead, but even then I could make out the worry creases on his forehead.

“You tell him, Erwin.” he said.

My throat went dry. _What?_

Erwin had a grave expression over his face. He leaned on his forearms on the table, and crossed his arms. He covered his previous expression with a more serious one. His blue eyes were now steelier. Levi looked over with his grey, stone-hard eyes.

“Marco, excuse me for putting this roughly, but I’m afraid… You’re the only one left besides us.”

I went still. I could process nothing what he said. I gaped in confusion.

I let out a nervous laugh involuntarily, as I asked, “I’m sorry, what?”

Commander Levi stood straighter, and folded his arms. He did not reply arrogantly, but did reply solemnly, as his eyebrows knotted in the middle of his forehead again.

He said, “He means that no one else survived. When we heard of your incident, we ordered our men stationed there to check the whole area. They did, thoroughly; they found no one else. There is no other person left in Trost. You’re the only one who survived.”

By that, I could not function. I froze completely, as I recalled my friendly, crowded and happy neighborhood; now empty and hollow.

Those words ran in my mind over and over and over again as reality fucking punched me in the face:

 

_‘There is no other person left in Trost.’_

 

_‘You’re the only one who survived.’_


	2. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marco makes a grave decision, learns more inside-information of the Survey Corps, notes some fucked up observations regarding the zombies, that doesn't seem really bright.  
> Enjoy some goofy moments of Jean and Marco; add some new faces as well.

Everything went numb inside of me.

I could vaguely tell that Commander Levi was snapping his fingers in front of me.

But I couldn't even come to fucking blink.

Commander Erwin kept a warm, reassuring hand over my arm to bring me back to Earth.

"It's alright, Marco. You're safe here, at the least. You're allowed to mourn, but right now we have urgent matters to discuss about your stay here, so we'll wrap it up quickly."

I slowly looked up. My whole body was functioning slowly; the mere act of surviving was too tough an act now.

"As I told you before, the Survey Corps - like the name says - surveys the zombie-infested zones, and eliminates them. Our scientific wing tries to capture one or two, and through them we find ways to ensure their end; and the other wing – the Attacking wing – implements ways to kill these zombies. Up till now, all we know on how to kill them is to slice their head off, or drill bullets in to the brain; otherwise they regenerate, and do not die.

The point is, all this is going slow these days: no one chooses to join us, because here our lives are on the line. And too many people are dying too quickly. So I'd like to make a grave request to you: I'd like to request to you, to join us."

As Commander Erwin ended his speech, my eyes widened. The words were ringing in my mind like an annoying siren: "join us."

Then Commander Levi stepped in, leaning his hands against the edge of the desk, as he spoke forcefully, "Those cowards - called our government - always call us crazy, because we actually have hope for the survival of mankind; and we do. It is possible; the Survey Corps were made for the real warriors, who would help revive Humanity. Anyone who did otherwise..." he shook his head as he let out a bitter laugh, "they're the real fucking crazy people."

"But all those things aside, this is a serious decision; if you choose us, then you'll stay with us permanently, till we find an end to all this. So, choose wisely. Take your time." Commander Erwin ended, with a steely gaze.

I closed my eyes, and rubbed my face; how the fuck did my life turn out this way?

As if the fact that I'm the only one alive in all of Trost was not enough, now I had to make a decision that would confirm not just my future, but my whole fucking life. I'd rather not fuck this up.

My hands kept clasping and unclasping in my lap. I constantly bit in to my lower lip, as I thought over and over on what I should do.

If I thought this over sanely, then I'd rather not join a group that chased zombies immediately after being chased by one.

No fucking way. I valued my life too much.

But where would I go then? The streets are too dangerous, and since I'm the only one left, I could not just go and get someone's help now. Wherever I'd go, I'd always be in the danger of being chased, killed, or worse; being changed in to one. Surviving for my life would become an extremely tough feat.

But as I contemplated the fact that I'm alone, I felt this surge of hot, boiling anger brimming inside of me, because the truth was this: those zombies did all that. They were the one who killed my parents, my siblings, my friends, my neighbors, and every other innocent being in Trost. They were the fucking beasts that threatened my survival and my sanity. And I would soar, the day I kill the last zombie.

By joining the Survey Corps, I could do that; I could join hands with other survivors, driven with the same anger, to annihilate zombies from this whole world. Whether my life was on the line or not, whether I valued myself more or not, I couldn't pass the opportunity to finish the race that wiped away ours.

I just couldn't.

With adrenaline rushing through my veins, I clasped my hands tight in to my shirt to stop them from shaking, and looked at Erwin, and then Levi. They were looking at me expectantly.

I nodded grimly.

The creases in between Commander Levi's eyes eased a little, and Erwin nodded in affirmation, as he said, "You have my utmost respect, Marco."

I didn't hear the rest.

 

* * *

 

 

After saying some more reassuring statements that didn’t make sense at all, the guards escorted me to a kind of cabin, with metallic walls, a bed in the corner, and a door that led to the bathroom. On the bed, there lay clothes for me; way better than the sweaty and grimy ones I wore, with dried-up blood caked at places.

I dragged my sore legs to the edge of the bed. I sat, and took off my shirt. I picked at my bandages around my torso. I slightly opened one, but the blood I saw and pain I felt made me hiss. I could walk myself, at least, and so I slowly opened them. I saw black stitched, lashing across my skin, now red and purple, all across my left rib-cage, lining till my back. It stung a little, but it was enough to clean it up.

I picked up my clothes, and entered the cramped bathroom. I opened the shower that spurted hot water. I dampened my old shirt, and pressed it against my stitches. I hissed in pain, but I bit my lip and cleaned it properly.

After doing that, I scrubbed my face and arms with scalding hot water. It should have burnt my skin, but I was too numb to feel it. I washed my hair, and looked up at my reflection in the mirror, that had gone foggy.

I looked at myself, hard. No longer was I the healthy Marco; I was now sickly pale, and my freckles hid under purple bruises and cuts across my skin. There was a greenish-purple tinge under my eyes, which should be really hard to fucking overcome.

No longer was I the old, happy Marco; I was alone. I was weak.

I was broken.

I didn’t even administer the tears that started to fall, as I recalled everything that I loved, everything I cared for, that all turned in to everything I lost. As I clenched my jaw painfully, I ducked my head and slowly let out the grief within me. Slowly.

With an aching jaw, I come out of the stall, with every other feeling wiped out of me. Every feeling, except one;

The strong feeling of anger at the zombies, that stripped me of happiness.

 

* * *

 

 

I ripped the edge of the sheet over my bed, and tied it over my wound temporarily. I wore my clothes slowly, tiring. Then I noticed the rumble in my stomach; I hadn’t eaten almost anything since forever.

I stepped out my cabin, and looked to my left and right. I heard the clattering of plates and forks, with the ruckus of people laughing and chatting. I followed that sound.

It led me down the hallway, then to the left side. By then, the lights had turned to a dim red, making me squint to see things clearly. Then, to my right, a room was brightly lit with warm yellow lights. There were benches lined at intervals, with people sitting there in one big crowd. They lifted their mugs, like in victory, as they swore and talked loudly. But sitting away from them all, was one man, with the same brass-colored hair that my savior had:

I entered the big room slowly. Thankfully, no one noticed me enter. Far away, I saw trays of food; like a self-serving thing. I picked a bowl, loaded it with stew, and slowly edged towards his table. He sat there, with a small shot glass, half-filled with an amber liquid, a cigarette between his fingers, already lit, as its ashes fell carelessly on the table. His head was bent down.

I lightly tapped him on the shoulder. His head snapped at me, as if he were expecting a kind of attack, but his expressions eased when he saw it was me. Maybe I even noticed a corner of his mouth lift a little.

“Could I join? The rest…” I ask, pointing my elbow at the crowd.

He looked at the crowd in one glance, and then waved a hand for my approval.

 _Well, wasn’t that easy_.

I sat gratefully across from him. I eat my stew; or more like stuffing it in my face as much as I could because I was indeed fucking hungry.

Without looking at me, Jean said, “Damn it, man, don’t choke yourself.”

I looked up at him, a spoon halfway in my mouth. Maybe the way I looked must have been fucking comical, because he tried to keep a straight face, but then started laughing; a soft laugh that breathed out of his nose, a small smirk playing on his lips.

He scowled so much, I assumed. He looked way better like that.

“Well,” I said, swallowing, “You could say I was parched after being chased by a zombie.”

He chuckled again, and said, “Yeah, can’t blame you there.”

He downed the contents in the glass in one go, and sighed. He pulled at his cigarette, and puffed the smoke out of his mouth and nostrils. He tapped his cigarette, the ashes falling on the floor. My eyes trailed the smoke floating up, up, up, until it disappeared around the yellow bulbs on the ceiling.

“So, when will you be leaving?” he asked, a little bored.

I raised my eye brow at him.

He stared at me with his hard, amber eyes. “You are gonna leave, right? To somewhere safe?”

I shake my head in denial.

His eyes grow wide.

“What?! You’re joining us?! Why? You were actually appealed by the shit we go through?!” Jean asked, his voice loud and demanding for reason.

“There is no place safe now. I wanna do something for a change-“

But he cut me off, by saying, “Fuck all that logic. You can live a pretty safer life hiding away in some warehouse. You’re going nowhere around here. What about your friends, or-“

“No place is safe anymore, ‘cause I’m the only one left!”

I say it louder, my hands clenching in to tight fists, as anger rushed inside of me. His expression went softer, as he paused. He blinked a few times, and then took one, really long drag of his cigarette, and then flicked it behind him.

“I’m sorry.” he said softly, releasing the smoke through his mouth.

I didn’t realize I was panting, my nails digging in to my palms. I eased them, as I said, “It’s-it’s okay. Besides, I’m done hiding. I wanna do something. I can’t let these zombies run free, after all that they took from me.”

He looked at me carefully, his eyes trained on me, and on me only.

“That’s noble of you.” he finally said in a softer voice.

I could only nod. The strange numbness returned once more, and my appetite was finished all of a sudden. I stared at my almost empty bowl, feeling hopeless by the minute.

Just then, I heard his voice, “But you do know you’re gonna have to survive in order to finish all these zombies.”

I nodded.

“Everyone in this room is surviving; they would have been long-gone dead if it weren’t for their survival instincts. They know they have to survive in order to win.”

I nodded again.

“So, _eat_.”

I look up at him. I raise an eye-brow.

“Eat; so that you can survive. Don’t let these emotions stop you from living, alright? So finish your food. Eat to survive.”

I didn’t blink for a few seconds. I just stared at him, as he gave me simple advice that meant everything to me.

He was right; I’d have to live and survive in order to avenge my family, my friends, and the whole of Trost. I could not let myself weaken. I had to stay here for the long-run.

When I found the energy to blink, I looked at my bowl, and dug a spoon-full of stew in my mouth. My stomach recoiled because I didn’t feel hungry anymore, but even then I forced it down my throat. I had to survive.

“Thanks, Jean…” I muttered to him, but those mere words didn’t even match the level of gratitude I felt for him.

He smiled with one corner of his mouth, and said, “Its cool, Marco. Everything’s cool.”

After I had finished my food, we chatted idly; he told me that he was one of the few early recruits that managed to stay alive for over five years. I told him how I had barely managed to survive from one warehouse to the next, from one abandoned market to the next, and so on.

We talked for a long time, and by then we didn’t even notice that the room had gone empty. We got up, and after I disposed my tray, we made our way out of the room.

Just as I turned, I felt this awful jab of pain in my torso; where the stitches were. I stopped and grunted in pain. Jean turned and held me by my shoulders. He looked worried.

“Damn it, I even forgot you had those stitches…” he said.

I could only nod; the make-shift bandage could only work for so long until something like this happened.

Without much ado, he led me down the hallway, in to the main entrance. The entrance was almost empty, except for a few body guards that guarded the doors sternly.

From there he crossed the vast room, and turned towards the far right hallway. The hallway sloped down a little, and Jean held me with his strong arms. By looking at his slightly scrawny figure, one would be amazed of the tons of fucking strength he had.

He turned towards a white door to the left. Without knocking, he entered, and placed me gingerly on a soft, white bed. My vision was going blurry with tears of pain.

I heard him calling to someone worriedly. I recognized the lady that spoke next; it was Petra. She cut open my shirt, and examined my wounds with dainty hands. I was on the edge of consciousness at that point.

All I remember was Jean worrying sick of me, and then I tipped over unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

 

I opened my eyes, my eye lashes sticky with sleep.

I stared at a clean, off-white ceiling, with a fan whizzing at full speed. But that didn’t solve the sweat that dampened my forehead.

I turned towards my right, to see Petra leaning over something on the table. She heard me rustling, and turned. She gave a warm smile with her honey-colored eyes, and said, “Hey, Marco!"

Before I got the chance to ask, she answered:

"About your wounds, there is once again, no such problem. Your stitches were falling loose, so that began the pain you felt. I replaced them, alright. But you will have to stay here for two days for proper check-up.”

I nodded slowly. My head was fucking hurting like hell, and it made me groan.

“Ah, yes, you’re gonna feel those headaches, they’re the after-effects of the medicines I had to give you.” she reasoned.

Damn, she knew everything that I was about to say, or even think.

I leaned up gingerly, and sat against the bed-rest behind me. Surrounding me were different machines, all whizzing and turning and making beeping noises. I looked at the clock. It struck 8 AM.

There was a glass of water beside me, and I reached towards it, drinking it in one gulp. Only then did I remember someone.

“Jean…!”

“It’s about time you asked about him.” she cut me off, as she turned with a tray of medicines. Once again, she fucking knew I was gonna ask about him.

She looked at the now-empty glass and _humph-_ ed, and turned to get some more water. All the while, she said, “He was worried sick! He demanded to stay with you here, but I couldn’t allow that. I knew he’d dose off any second, so I forced him to go to his own room. The poor soul’s been through so much already, more stress would be the last thing he needed…”

My ears perked up at that. I looked at her expectantly.

“What do you mean?” I croaked.

She turned towards me, and placed the water and pills in my hands. She thought, and then said, “Well, let’s just say that I mean what I said before. Other than that, I’m in no place to tell you about the details, it’s his place. Besides, you should know; that the truth will always be told in its own pace, at its own time.”

I stared at her. She let the words sink in me, and sink in me they did. I paused, and then nodded, gulping the medicines as well.

She winked, and took the glass from me. I leaned heavily against the bed-rest, and sighed. These two days were going to be fucking long.

I definitely wanted someone to keep me company; someone in particular, to make it better.

Just as the thought crossed my mind, someone knocked the door. Petra opened it, and there I saw Jean.

You could say I was fucking ecstatic to see someone who was worried sick for me.

I saw Jean look at me, and I saw the creases on his face ease, and there I finally saw how relieved he looked; and how a small smile played at his lips, lighting his whole face up. It made me involuntarily blush.

“Well, just like you wished, here is someone to keep you company!” Petra said happily, laughing at the end.

I snapped my head at her, my cheeks burning even more. Jean rolled his eyes, but I was stuttering.

“I – I never said t-that!”

Petra laughed, as she said, “But you did feel like it!” and then she left the room.

I shook my head. Jean was laughing, as he leaned against the door frame.

He wore a grey shirt, the sleeves ending above his elbows, with black jeans that slightly hugged his thin, long legs. He abandoned his leather jacket today, and somehow, it was a good change. For the first time I noticed tattoos covering his left arm; they consisted of flames and other shapes I couldn’t properly make out, which ended till his wrist. His light hair at the top was damp, some droplets sticking to his forehead. He ran a hand through them, making them stick out at odd angles.

 _Well, aren’t you a little observant today?_ my conscious noted.

It didn’t help the blush on my cheeks to finish; rather it fueled it even more. I let out a groan, covering my face with my hands. That made Jean laugh more.

“Can she, like, read minds or something?” I asked.

“I seriously used to think she could before. But you get used to it.” he answered, while dragging a chair near my bed.

He patted his back pocket, but then his eyes grew wide. He patted all his pockets, and then groaned.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Petra stole my smokes again!” he whined, covering his face in agony.

Now it was my turn to laugh at the prospect of _‘again’_.

“Again?” I ask, emphasizing on the word.

He nodded grimly. “She always does this whenever I’m near her.” He groaned again, leaning his forehead against the mattress, and whined.

I tried reasoning, “Well, she must be doing it for your own good.”

“Easy for you to say.” he mumbled, his voice muffled against the sheets of the bed. I chuckled.

With a childish huff, he lifted his face and looked at me. “So, how’re you feelin’?”

“Way better.”

“Well doesn’t look so.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Have you seen the fucking bruises and cuts on your face?” he said, chuckling.

I pouted, and stuck my tongue out to him.

“Plus, I love the whole hair-do you’re sporting.” he smirked.

I lift my hand to my hair, and feel that not only are they tangled, but also standing up at odd angles all around my head. It was like a full-fledged bed-head look.

I pouted again as he continued laughing at my reaction, while I tried patting down my hair.

My right eye-brow twitched, and then I smirked, as I said, “Well, not looking bad yourself, Kirschtein.”

His laughs finished, and then it was his turn to lift his hands to touch his hair.

Then he felt what I saw: all his hair from the front was standing up like a horrible attempt at spikes, and with the under-cut, it all looked like a failure at a punk-rock look.

The tips of his ears turned red, and now I was giggling at him because he was trying to pat down his own hair at an attempt to look presentable.

 

* * *

 

 

Two days passed like a blink of an eye and with the magic pills that Petra gave me daily before sleeping and after waking up, I finally felt strength slowly creeping in to my limbs, so that now I could sit up properly without the dull ache in my chest.

Jean visited me on both days and we goofed off each day. He came by, sat with me, and just chatted idly, as if no apocalypse of any kind ever took place outside that room.

He gave me food and he brought his along with. He told me that usually everyday they have to go through training; combat training, defensive moves and strategies, quick-thinking and all that. But for those two days, their commander had been gone with Commander Levi to some Survey.

On the second day, some other people came to visit too; a short, blonde man, with another man slightly taller than him, with brown hair and bright green eyes. I recognized them as some of the recruits that were in the van that took them from that dingy alley till here.

 “Hi, I’m Armin!” the blonde introduced himself, and then pointed at the brown-haired one. “And he’s Eren.” Eren waved at my direction.

Both wore casual clothes; Armin in a white T-shirt and jeans, while Eren wore a green shirt with brown pants.

“We found out you’re staying with us.” Armin said.

“Yeah, well, I got no other option.” I said, nervously laughing in the end.

Both nodded, and then Eren motioned to the bandages on my bare torso, “Those are gonna make some sick-battle scars, I gotta tell you.”

I laughed it off, and asked, “You think so?”

“Yeah. Way better than Jean’s tattoos-“

He didn’t get the chance to complete his sentence, for Jean immediately kicked him at the back of his knees. Eren buckled, but grounded his feet and shoved Jean, stopping him from laughing.

Armin exclaimed, “C’mon guys, at least not here!”

They eventually stopped shoving each other. They glared at each other for a full minute. I thought they were gonna go at it again.

But then their faces faltered, and both started laughing. Their laughs eased the tension that boiled in the atmosphere before.

“Do you guys do this often?” I asked.

“We go along this way, man.” Jean reasoned, while he punched Eren in the arm. He rubbed his arm, all the while chuckling.

They talked like this for the remainder of the day. I asked about the two wings of the Survey Corps, that Commander Erwin mentioned before. They told me that indeed there were two wings; the Scientific Wing and the Defensive Wing.

The Scientific Wing does some crazy stuff; it caught rogue zombies and tested things on them. They carried these researches in order to find more ways to kill zombies, so that they could finish them easily and efficiently. They told that their Commander was Commander Hange Zoe, a really lunatic scientist, with an ambition and love for zombie-research like no other.

“But I’ve heard that they’re working on ways to cure people that turned in to zombies.” Armin said.

“That’s bullshit!” Eren said. “How can you do that?”

“Just like scientists make cures for viral infections from the virus itself, they’re trying to find a cure from the infected cell itself! Think about it, if they can take a few cells from the zombies they’ve caught, they can track the infection that plagued the cell, and then trace out a cure from it!”

Armiin described the situation with such enthusiasm; you could tell he loved their ways of curing things.

Eren stared, his mouth slightly agape. Jean was nodding slowly and thoughtfully, and I found myself doing the same; it seemed like a perfect plan.

It seemed almost too easy.

“But is it even possible? It seems too easy.” I said.

Armin nodded, and then said, “Yeah, I know. But I don’t know much more. Who knows what problems they might be facing?”

Then they told me about the Attacking Wing; the most important wing. Here all decisive actions take place. All Surveys that go outside are made and led by them. They plan all strategies and moves in order to kill as many zombies as they could without losing lives. Along with that, they trained the recruits; teaching them new moves, combat training, survival skills, defensive strategies, teamwork skills and weaponry training. The man that led this wing was Commander Levi.

“He seems really short and grumpy, but man, have you seen how he fucking fights!” Eren said.

“He has a record killing of over a hundred zombies uptil now!” Jean said, amazed.

I shook my head, shocked. That man didn’t actually give me a really great perception to me of himself, that he was possibly the bravest man alive till now.

“It’s hard to believe it, but he is definitely Humanity’s last hope. He can fight so goddamn well, and no one can match how swift he is!” Eren continued.

“And once he even had a fight-off with Commander Shadis! Oh fuck, Shadis should have seen his own face when he lost!” Jean chuckled.

“Who’s Shadis?” I asked.

The other three stared at each other, and then smirked.

“Let’s leave that as an element of surprise.” Armin said, scratching his cheek innocently. Eren and Jean continued suppressing their laughter.

I gulped audibly.

Then they told me about the head of both Wings; Commander Erwin. They say he was the one who made this Corps, and no one was as determined to end the zombies as much as he was. All the other politicians laughed at his face when he asked for permission to make this Corps. And he was given permission only to humiliate him.

But he still chose to continue and make all this happen. It took him a hard time to get where he is right now, and every recruit respects him to the fullest.

“The things that man has gone through…” Armin shook his head. “We wouldn’t be able to do anything. He was willing to give up his own sanity for the sake of Humanity.”

We nodded, and there I felt this moving feeling of respect for the man that sat across from me not too long ago, his finger clasped under his chin. When I agreed to join, I saw his worry lines ease a little, but then I did see them ease only a little; some worry-creases still remained there, a part of him.

Maybe they showed the struggle he has been through.

“And I’ve heard that the first recruit was Levi himself.” Eren said, leaning forward a little from his seat across me.

“Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Jean reasoned next to me. “I mean, their thinking is so similar, both of theirs. And they’re hardly separable. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.”

“Yeah, it makes sense.” Armin hummed.

After a pause, Eren said, with a sigh:

“Guys, we all know what happened back there, with the zombies.”

At that, we all froze. We knew what he was talking about.

“It doesn’t make sense!” Eren exclaimed. “We fucking quadruple checked the whole area thoroughly, and even then when we reached there we saw like a million zombies, as if we never even killed any. If that doesn’t scream ‘freaky’ to you then I don’t know what does.”

“Not to mention the fact that they were acting really fucked up. Usually they don’t do anything out of the ordinary. But there, they were shouting and ranting so loud, and making weird voices, like some sick ritual.” Jean rambled.

“And what’s worse? They managed to make fire; _fire._ They were never able to do that before. The pace at which they’re changing like this is really fucking scaring me.” Eren said.

I was feeling scared by the second. Zombies were extremely mindless before, but they were evolving, more-like, into sharper things. And that was one thing they definitely did not want.

“And in the super-market, it could walk on the walls!” I told them, which freaked them out as equally as it did to me.

Armin hummed, as he scratched his chin, and said, “The way they’re evolving is something that is gonna definitely cause us trouble.”

He said it so gravely, that all of us in the room realized the real problem that we’re dealing with. It’s something much more than some mind-less things that can be killed easily.

No, it was way harder than that. These steady, new changes were not so welcoming in the future.

 

* * *

 

 

After talking some more, Petra kicked Armin and Eren out, saying I needed some early rest if I were to wake up for tomorrow’s training.

Eren and Armin left, but Jean trailed for a little longer. And I was not annoyed at all.

“They seem like nice people.” I said, taking about Eren and Armin.

“Yeah, they’re good guys. You’re gonna meet more tomorrow.” Jean said.

I nodded. Finding out that there were more people like them that welcomed my presence made me feel happy, and slightly wanted.

Jean stood up, and yawned loudly. He stretched his arms above his head and stretched his back, letting a few popping sounds come from his knuckles and shoulders. The sleeves of his shirt rode down a little, and I could see more of his tattoo; there I could see more thick patterns.

I had to make a mental note to myself to somehow find out what these actually were.

As his shirt rode up above his waist a little, I saw little curls of black ink over his back. So he had more tattoos there.

It just made me want to see them all; find out the story hidden behind those lines and curls, make out the reasons for the ink that marked his skin, and create the meaning behind those tattoos.

I always found tattoos interesting. I had one myself, and it had a whole story behind it as well…

“Hey, Earth to Marco!” I noticed Jean waving his hand over my eyes. There, I realized I had zoned out.

I shook my head, and rubbed the back of my neck shyly, “Ah, sorry. Just zoned out a bit…” I chuckled at the end.

He smirked, and said, “It’s time you rested. You’re gonna need the energy to face Shadis tomorrow”

I laughed at that. I nodded, and laid back. I sighed as my head hit the cold pillow. Jean moved towards the door, and waved his hand. “Good night, Marco. Don’t let the bed-bugs bite.”

“Oh, I won’t!” I said.

His light chuckle, with a mumbled _‘dork’_   was what he last said, as he went down the corridor.

I turned to my left, and was comforted by the fact that here, people weren’t so bad. They were rather welcoming, and took me as a friend. They befriended me quite easily, and they felt comfortable around me.

I felt fuzzy inside as I realized something:

That even though I was the last person alive in Trost, staying here around these friendly people would make that fact less obvious.

 

* * *

 

[yo captain's got a nerdy tumblr filled with jeanmarco](http://captaink-irschtein.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this one! and all the real plot twists and angst and shit is gonna commence after this chapter, so hold on tight. Let me know how I did by commenting some thingies ayyy
> 
> And LISTEN UP: I'm starting this new thing on tumblr: #thesilentheadcannon  
> Basically its gonna be a tag under which I'll post some little headcannons related to the zombie-apocalypse-universe, just to keep you guys entertained until a new chapter is updated. you guys can help too! You just post a headcannon or prompt or any post, and tag it under "#the silent headcannon" and I'll check it out!
> 
> So how bout that? Lemme know if its hella rad or hella bad, by visiting my blog! (the link is given)


	3. Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although matters have gone way worse than they already were, I feel better; I've gotten a purpose to strive for now. I have something worth fighting for.

_**Purpose.** _

 

“ATTENTION CADETS!”

The loud, booming voice of Commander Shadis vibrated through us, chills creeping up my neck only by his voice.

And don’t even get me started with his face; he had dark eyes that were sunken in his skull, the skin around them blackened and wrinkled, with a set jaw, and a mean, fixed stature. You could tell he wasn’t all about fun and games.

“No more fun and games for you scums, now.” he bellowed, his voice sharp and demanding. Yup, that confirmed my suspicions.

I swallowed hard, my stance rigid, with my hands behind my back.

 _The others weren’t wrong,_ I thought.

 

“So I see you’re all set?” Jean greeted me that morning, in the early hours of dawn, when only a few rays of light had managed to creep up the horizon, the sky a mixture of blue and red hues. I made my way out of my room, in to the dark hallway, where he was waiting for me.

Seeing me, clad comfortably in the new clothes they gave me – a black T-shirt, with a black jacket, along with boots, and black pants - he turned and started walking down the hallway. I saw Jean wearing almost the same colors, except he had a different leather jacket over him, the stiff collars brushing his chin. The dark colors suited his mean demeanor, and with the crisp way he walked, his shoulders bold, and his steps firm, you could tell those colors were made for him.

He opened a door at the end of the hallway, which opened in to another room, this one more spaced out.

There were a few people inside, some making their way outside the room through the other opening. I recognized a few; Connie and Eren were there, chatting aimlessly. I saw Armin making his way out the room with a girl with cropped black hair. He managed to turn and wave at me before he left.

Connie stood up, and said, “Well we better move out, you know how Shadis acts if we go in late…” Eren visibly shuddered at the prospect.

“But you guys didn’t even tell me about this guy! How is he like?” I demanded.

Once again, the three shared another insider look that I really couldn’t understand. I needed to fucking get around that one if I had to fit in.

“Like we promised; you’ll know soon enough!” Jean coaxed me, but I wasn’t for it.

“C’mon now you’re just scaring me.” I said unsurely.

Jean’s smirk only grew wider, as he held me by my shoulders. His grip was strong, and he was able to turn me around, and practically pushed me against my own will. He was fucking pushing me, even when I had my heels up, resisting the push, but for no fucking use.

“Think of it this way…” Eren trailed near my left side, right as I stood in front of the door. “He was able to lift Connie off of the floor by his head once for doing the salute the other way.”

“And he hasn’t looked at the Commander the same way ever again.” Jean continued on my other side.

“WHAT!” I exclaimed.

But before I knew it, I was pushed in to the vast training room.

 

It was a huge room with foam mattresses stacked at one end, a whole wall lined with ammunition on the other side, and punching bags hung from stands at a corner at regular intervals. There were all kinds of dummies on which people could practice hand-to-hand combat.

But for _what_ , I didn’t exactly know.

The ceiling was high up, the white lights bright on every corner. Windows near the ceiling allowed the faint morning light in, illuminating the grey walls of the room.

In the middle stood who I believed was Commander Shadis, looking at us with an almost hawkish glare. His eyes landed on me, the newbie, and my suspicions were correct; it was Commander Shadis, as suggested by his badge on his breast-pocket of the coat he wore.

Everyone lined up in a horizontal fashion, and I did the same, between Jean and Eren.

That was when the Commander demanded our attention.

“Cadets! Training won’t be so easy, now that we have learned the threat of the zombies all over again. And you all know that by now.”

I chanced a glance at Jean and Eren, and they both looked worried. Our suspicions were confirmed; this was no coincidence.

“You know I’m no man of pleasantries, so we’ll keep it simple; we will train longer and harder. You all will have to excel at the smallest stances and tricks. If you falter for one second, if you lose focus on your enemy, if you falter for one single moment, then it will cost you your life.”

At the end, he stood face to face with me. I gulped dryly, sweat trickling down my forehead.

He backed up a little, but did not leave his eyes from me. “Now that that’s clear, you need to remind yourself how dangerous these zombies are; you need to know how they eliminated us humans from Trost. You need to remember the innocent people they killed mercilessly!”

It reminded me of my friends who were eaten; of my family members who left too soon; of my siblings who were taken by surprise…

I took in a shaky breath, trying to steady myself.

“You need to remind yourself of the destruction that the zombies did, and now, we shall make them pay!”

Everyone shouted “ _Yes, sir!_ ” with such dedication, my hair stood on its ends.

“We will _annihilate_ them! We will _end_ them!”

Once again, everyone shouted their affirmation. I managed to do so too.

“We will show them the rise of Mankind! _We will revive Humanity!_ ”

At that, they shouted, and placed their right fists against their heart with an audible thud, their other fists behind their back. They stood defiantly, strongly, bravely. I chanced a glance at Jean, who clenched his fist tightly over his heart, his veins almost visible. Although he seemed to look at the Commander, he wasn't actually focusing on _him_ ; he seemed to be zoning out, as if he were imagining the end of zombies somewhere in his mind; the dedication and firmness he showed was daunting.

I copied it quickly before the Commander saw me, but even then I felt his stare on me when I stumbled a little. But he chose to ignore it, and did the salute himself.

“Now, resume your training the way we always do. I’ll be inspecting from far, and if I see anyone slack off, they will see it! Dismissed!”

With that exclamation, everyone dispersed. Commander Shadis turned, and before leaving, he said, “Someone help the new recruit out. I wouldn’t want to see him being pummeled too soon.”

I stood, almost freaked the fuck out, but the Commander just left it at that. And so did I; I turned to meet the rest at the end where the foam figures and boxing bags were hung.

I met Eren halfway, where he smirked, “You saw that? That’s our beloved Commander, and you better not reach his bad side.”

I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck. I nodded, and said, “Oh yeah, should have expected that.”

We reached the foam figurines, and I saw Jean gathering a bunch of them on his shoulder. He saw me and Eren, and waved at our direction.

We came to him, as I asked, “What are these exactly for?”

“To _kick ass_.” Jean answered with a lop-sided grin.

Eren laughed, and said, “That’s what I’ll be doing to Jean-“

“Hey! Not before I do it.” Jean countered forcefully.

“We’ll see to that.” Eren replied coolly.

I glanced at the two back-and-forth; Eren, with a cool expression, one of the corners of his mouth turned up and Jean, with a smirk and a challenging look to his eyes, his eyebrows scrunched a little at his forehead.

They kept on staring at each other, until I coughed forcefully, and directed their attention to me, breaking the tension.

“So,” I began, “How will we be training?”

Eren explained to me how their training is divided in slots; first they will be practicing combat skills on those dummies and punching bags to warm up for the hand-to-hand combat they will be doing by pairing with someone; once they are done with that, they move to train with ammunition – guns, knives, spears, the works. That includes how to disarm the other.

The way Eren was describing it all, and the way Jean was supplying it with more information, it left my throat dry; all this was too intense. I was afraid I wouldn’t even fucking last ten seconds here.

I shared my worries with them both, but they told me to chill. I couldn’t actually _chill_ , now could I?

“Hey, c’mon, Shadis won’t be planning to kill you off on the first try. Let’s see your normal combat skills first.” Eren assured.

We made our way to a corner of the room, away from the others, who had already begun full-on combat on the models. Their grunts and smacks on hard plastic were audible, and with each punch, my morality rate here fucking decreased.

After hanging a punching bag, Eren clapped his hands, and said, “Okay now, land a punch as hard as you can.”

Raising my eyebrows in confusion, I looked on at him, then at Jean. Jean beckoned me to go on. I shrugged, thinking _well why the fuck not?_ , and I lifted my fist.

I was interrupted by a shout.

“Hey, Eren!” I turned to see the cropped-hair girl call. She wore a cropped top, showing her insanely muscled stomach and arms. Fuck, even I didn’t have as much muscles as all that.

She continued, “Armin is having some trouble with his punches. Could you help him out?”

“Coming, Mikasa!” he answered, turning towards me.

“Well, gotta go help him. You can keep practicing.” With that, Eren turned and ran towards Mikasa.

“Armin’s that blond guy, right?” I asked.

“Yeah, he has trouble with combats, but he has a strategic mind like no other.” he answered, shrugging. “Okay, let’s see your punch.”

I curled my fist and punched the bag with all the force I could muster.

I let out a pained grunt. The fucking bag didn’t even move, and it felt like I was punching a rock. I cradled my fist, whereas Jean was trying to stifle his laugh.

“Hey.” I pointed at him.

“I’m sorry, not blaming you. It’s funny ‘cause you managed to survive all this long, without any real training.”

“Well, I only made my way by hiding, so I’m good at that.”

He laughed – letting out a chuckle through his teeth - an airy one – and stepped up to me. “Besides, you’re doing it all wrong. Here, let me show you.”

He came up to me, and that’s where I actually notice he was shorter than me; well, only half an inch. But he had a firm aura to him I could never actually pull off.

He held my wrist, and showed me my fist up to my face.

“See, first of all you’re making your fist wrong. You have to place your thumb _over_ your knuckles, not under it, like _this_ -“he placed my thumb is the right way. His finger-tips were rough and calloused – probably because of combat training. “Now you can punch your opponent with more force.

Next is about your stance. You’re standing parallel to the target, and that’s wrong. You’re gonna allow the opponent to hit you in all the critical places; your _ribs_ , your _neck_ , your _chest_ ; and then eventually, it'll be your _life._ ” He emphasized it by pushing each part with force, making me flinch. He was right.

“Stand perpendicular to the opponent. Like this-“he held my shoulders from the back, and tilted me to the side so that my left shoulder was towards the target, my right shoulder away it. He nudged my shins with his feet further away from each other. “-and keep your feet apart. It gives you more ground. Now you’ve got your vital parts relatively safe.”

He faced me, and placed both of my arms over one another – my right arm over my left, a little space between the two. He pulled my left elbow a little more, jutting it out. Both my arms were in front of my chest, my left elbow defending my neck.

“Now look at your position; your arms are protecting your chest and ribs. Your elbow is covering the side of your neck-“he gestured at the side of his neck”-that has the pulse. This is increasing your survival in the battle-field. Now, let’s fix your punch.”

He pointed at my elbow, and said, “You punch from your elbow; that won’t do anything. See-“he demonstrates his statement. He punches the way I did, and just as suspected, it didn’t move. “That’s ‘cause your arm alone doesn’t have enough power to push something heavy. What you should do is this-“he punched the bag again, and this time it moved a good distance.

He held that aggressively moving bag, and looked at me. He smirked, and said, “See what I did there? I used my whole body, and concentrated all my energy in to my fist. Like this you can land a threatening blow on your opponent.”

He didn’t stop there. He neared the punching bag.

“You land your first blow on the opponent.” He punched the bag.

“Then another, and another, and another-“he punched the bag once, twice, thrice, sending it flying the opposite direction.

“The opponent will lose focus now. You take the chance and quick-“he then lifted his leg and kicked the bag with full force, propelling it a whole fucking lot.

“But the opponent may be smart. They’ll take the chance and will strike. There, you go defensive-“he immediately dodged the incoming bag swiftly, letting momentum swing it the other way.

I only gaped at him; he was so fucking _smooth_ , as he attacked the bag and defended himself so swiftly, that his arms and legs were almost a blur as he expertly showed his combat skills. It looked as if he had zoned out again, in to his other world where he fights for a living; his eyes were shining with dedication and all the effort he put in his blows. They burned with this searing rage that I knew would be difficult to contain. I could never pull that off. He was fucking amazing.

After defending and attacking all at once, his forearms practically _blurred_ with the speed, he said, “Now it’s time to end the combat; you’ve exhausted them enough. Let them fall.” With that, he turned, letting the momentum fuel energy to his blow, and smacked the bag with his elbow with a heavy grunt. He finally stood, panting.

If it weren’t for the chains, the bag would have long ago been flown to the other side of the fucking room; possibly even mutilated. I wouldn’t want to even think if it were a real person.

I still stood speechless; words couldn’t express just how masterfully he showed his skills.

“Sorry, got a little carried away…” he laughed sheepishly.

“Are you kidding me? That was probably the best class I’d ever get in my fucking life.” I countered.

He looked at me and raised his eye-brows, shocked to hear my words. Then the corners of his mouth turned upwards, revealing a genuine smile; not the scowl I saw the first time, or a tight-lipped face like other times. It was real, and it suited him better than the serious face he always wore.

“Well, thanks. I took my time.” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck. As he did so, I could see the curling ink that crept from under his shirt, and ended right where his neck began. I lost my trail of thought as I focused there; it seemed like flames, maybe.

Jean’s voice snapped me back in reality, as he said, “Okay, the show is over. Now you try.”

At that, I stiffed up; of-fucking-course I wouldn’t be able to pull what Jean pulled off. And I did not want to make a fool of myself either. I looked up and saw Commander Shadis looking a little too closely at me, his hawkish glare bring holes in my head.

Immediately I looked down. I said, “But I might not-“

Jean interrupted me and said, “Shut up, and just try it. You’ll only learn from now.”

I nodded slowly, and stood the way he taught me; my body tilted to the side, my arms over the other, my elbow jutted out, and my legs far apart and crouched.

“Remember to focus all your body’s energy in to that one punch. The first blow always decides the victor.” Jean said, as I fixed my stance, steadying myself.

I nodded, focusing all the energy I have and channeling it in my fist. I breathed out slowly, steadying myself more, and once I felt I was ready, I punched the bag, a grunt forcing itself out of my mouth.

The punching-bag flew the other side, rising high with the force I gave it.

I laughed shakily and looked at Jean, who had a proud smile on his face as well.

“Well done, man.” he said.

“All thanks to-“

But before I could complete my sentence, the bag decided to fucking pummel in to me. I let out a loud _oomph_ as the bag hit me with such force I stumbled and fell on my ass. _Quite ceremoniously,_ I would say.

I grunted loudly as I fell, and rather than helping me, Jean felt it was the best time to laugh his ass off, while mine was hurting.

I made a face at him, but he continued to laugh until tears of mirth gathered in his eyes.

“I’m sorry man, your face was priceless.” he cackled, rubbing his eyes.

I mumbled some carefully-selected curses under my breath, as I stood up.

“Okay sorry, sorry.” he breathed. “Now let’s teach you some more tricks I have up my sleeve.” he said, smiling, with a challenging look in his eyes.

I smiled back, hopeful at my abilities.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time I was done with the first training session, I had learned quite a lot of tricks I never knew I would learn in a lifetime; from punches to defensive throws; from the regular roundhouse kick to the insane flying kick. I even managed to learn how to head-butt without knocking myself over. All thanks to Jean.

Then came the other session; pairing up and fighting off each other. Even though I learned much about fighting, I could only do that on a fucking dummy; most definitely not on an alive person who could beat me up as well.

On the call of Commander Shadis to pair up, everyone began pairing up with one another in a hustle, their boots slapping on the smooth floor as they rushed to their respective partners. Once again, I did not know what to do.

Jean sensed my uneasiness almost instantly, and he came up to me as he said, “I’ll pair up with you. You still need to know how to fight with someone real.”

I chuckled, as he led me to the corner stacked with mattresses. He took one, and slid it across on the floor. He took off his jacket, revealing a sleeveless shirt that slightly hugged his waist, and there I saw his tattoo.

It was on his left arm. Although I've seen it in his shorter-sleeved shirts, this was the first time I had seen them up close. He started unlacing his shoes, and I followed him, unlacing mine. But my eyes still trailed the ink; it consisted of black flames, beginning from his wrist, swirling around his tense muscles, hiding under his shirt. It was an abstract design, in which more flames began from the previous ones that ended. They were so dense and fascinating, that I could have spent the entire day just looking at them.

He got up and  took two stuffy things off of a hook on the wall behind him – two vests that look like bullet-proof vests.

“Safety vests; so that you don’t break a bone too early.” he defined, smirking. He threw one at me, and I began wearing it, buckling and strapping it securely over my torso, the black material making me feel relatively safe.

After he strapped his own vest, he stepped up on the mattress. I stepped on it too. He was jumping on the balls of his feet, warming up a little.

“Alright, show me what you got.” he placed his arms the way he taught me.

I resumed my position; my legs, knees, torso and arms in place. I tried finding some weak spot in his stance; I figured it was a better option before I start throwing punches like a madman.

I spotted one; the left side of his neck. His elbow wasn’t high enough to cover it all.

I chose the time, and swung my fist at that spot.

I thought I could hit him there;

But I missed.

He swiftly dodged my blow, moving to the right side just barely.

I lost my footing, and stumbled a little. Jean took that time to place his leg across mine, making me trip.

I was gonna fall on my face. He held my vest by my neck at the last second.

Lo and behold; my face was centimeters away from the mattress, ready to fall, if it weren’t for Jean anchoring me in that embarrassing position.

I flushed, and refused to look up. Jean spoke up:

“Rule number one; never fall for the first weak-spot you see. I did that on purpose; imagine what the opponent would do.”

He let go of my vest, and I landed on the mattress – head first – with a squeaky oomph.

He was dusting his hands off, waiting for me to get up. As I did, he was standing in the same position, ready to attack; or defend, I didn’t even know.

“You have to be unpredictable on the field; confuse your opponent. Make them nervous; make them doubt their choices.” he said, while circling. I stared circling parallel to him, so that now both of us were circling one another, tense, fixed, ready to take action.

“You never know when the other could fight.” Immediately Jean threw a fist at me, aiming for my face. I yelped, bringing up my forearm to defend myself. I succeeded, as his fist deflected painfully off of my forearm. That was gonna leave a bruise.

He didn’t even wait; immediately he threw another fist, aiming for my stomach. Unfortunately it landed there, fucking painfully. I gasped as tears filled my eyes. Damn it, that hurt.

I crouched a little, and he was about to land another one at me, but then I took that chance of his over-confidence, and pushed my knee into his side. He hissed, and stumbled back.

He stood straighter, and jumped on the balls of his feet, more agile now, more alive.

He laughed - his voice raspy - as he said, “That’s the way, Bodt! Show some more stuff!”

Like that, we spent almost forever hitting and punching each other. At times he would make me stumble, and other times I would make him fall. At times he would punch me and the other times I would punch him.

But moreover, my senses felt like they were on high alert. The way he made me active and agile was like no other. I felt pure adrenaline running through me like wildfire, my muscles all active and ready to swing some more. Jean waked a whole new being in me, that I never knew existed.

By the time we were done with the second session, I had new bruises all over my arms and face. I bet many were on my legs where Jean kicked a little too hardly. My knuckles were sore from punching the vest too much, as the tough fabric grazed my knuckles more than once harshly.

But I didn’t hate the pain; I was fucking relishing it. The soreness in my knees and the stinging all over my face was a sign that I actually had a fucking chance to survive. It would remind me how I was strong enough to beat, and get beaten.

Well, at least I was not the only one who got all the bruises; I managed to grace Jean’s face with some amazing bruises of all kinds of colors. He was laughing too when we were done. Maybe he loved the pain the bruises brought, just like I did. A small part of me longed for that.

Just as we placed the mattress in the corner, I heard someone call:

“Hey Jean! You aren’t done just yet!” then the guy laughed.

It was Eren. He was stretching his arms and cracking his knuckles, calling to Jean. Was he calling for another duel...?

Jean turned and smirked. Oh, I thought. This must be a thing between the two.

He turned and made his way towards Eren, who was now laughing.

“Are you really up for it, Eren?” he asked, challengingly.

“Aw, c’mon, just wanna know how my fellow recruit is going.” he replied, smiling a lop-sided smile.

Jean shrugged, and said, “Suit yourself.”

He stepped on the mattress, taking his shoes off before he did. Eren was already prepared, jumping on his feet, active and ready to attack.

They circled one another. It was then that I noticed that all other recruits had formed a huddle around the pair that were about to fight.

The next few seconds were a blur of limbs; Eren threw the first punch, but Jean defended it expertly. Then he took the chance to hit the stumbling-brunette, only to face the punch he planned on throwing.

Jean fell on the mattress, and all the recruits let out a collective ‘ooh’. Jean sat on his knees, panting.

“What’s the matter, Jean? Aren’t you doin’ well?” he asked, laughing along the question. Everyone else ‘ooh’ed even more, some were laughing.

But I saw that glimmer of a smirk – that trademark smirk of his – as he bowed his head. He was up to something. You could tell.

As Eren came near him, Jean still stayed down. Just when he was near enough, Jean reacted.

He swung his beneath him, colliding with Eren’s legs hard. That sent Eren toppling down.

Everyone whooped loudly, as Jean stood, wiping his cheek. I found myself clapping along and smiling.

“What’s the matter now, Eren? Wasn’t I the one fallen a few seconds ago?” Jean countered.

He turned away, thinking that the fight was over, but little did he know.

Eren got up and punched Jean’s shoulder, making him stumble. He turned but he was greeted by another one of Eren’s fists. He blocked this one; then another, then another one, and another one. He aimed his elbow at Eren’s face, but Eren expertly caught his elbow, and threw him to the side.

The crowd was on the edge of their feet; curses and grunts fell from their lips easily. They were watching the match so intently; maybe some of them were taking down notes. I knew I was.

Who knew how long this match went; it seemed endless. Neither of them was willing to lose, neither of them was ready to give in. Both were dodging each and every throw they aimed at the other. Both were fighting faultlessly; it was hard to pinpoint a victor.

Both of them continued circling one another. Both had this determination in their eyes like no other; both had that nasty, deadly look in their eyes and I swear any opponent facing either of them is as good as dead.

Jean threw the first punch this time – but Eren dodged it. Then Eren aimed his fist at Jean’s side, but he dodged it. He didn’t stop there. He pulled his knee back, aiming it at Jean’s exposed side. He threw it with a grunt.

For a second it looked like he did actually maim Jean.

But then Jean’s fingers hooked under Eren’s knee and he practically swung him to the other side. The crowd cheered.

But then Jean was caught off-guard; he didn’t know what Eren would do.

As Eren fell, he purposely locked his knee around his arm, and his other leg swung at Jean’s legs, making both of them topple.

The crowd went wild with the outburst of “ooh”s and “woah”s. The two were panting raggedly. Sweat trickled down each of their faces, and they both had new bruises on their faces.

They still didn’t give up; both got up, each of them having deadly snarls as they got up.

Both swung their fists at the same time, shouting along-

But they stopped mid-air by a shout:

“STOP!”

I looked up to see Commander Shadis looking at our crowd. I had forgotten about him.

“You’ve had enough fun, I believe. Leave each other and make way to the cafeteria.”

“But what about session-“ Connie began.

“That session, Springer,” Commander Shadis cut him off, “Can wait. Right now there will be an important announcement, so you all will be reported once it shall be conveyed; until then, dismissed!”

 _Important announcement…?_ I thought. I looked over at Jean, and he looked at me. We both had worried expression.

An announcement at this stage can’t possibly be fucking good.

After sorting up the place, we left the area. Everyone was quite as we entered the corridor, leading to the cafeteria. I expected this sort of tension after receiving such news. I knew there would be an anxious feeling that hung in the air, waiting to burst any moment. I also expected such between Eren and Jean, after what a fight they both had.

What I didn’t expect was what happened next.

All of a sudden, the people at the back of the group began hooting loudly, clapping at Jean and Eren who were pushed forward, in front of the whole group. They smacked their shoulders, they high-fived the two, and one tall, buff guy managed to nuzzle his fist at Jean’s hair at the top, making it all frizzy.

Eren and Jean looked at each other and laughed; they pushed each other playfully, seeing who would topple first. Giving up soon, they bumped their fist in to one another, still chuckling.

The two were such close friends that even when the two were fighting to break a bone or two, they still bumped fists like nothing every happened. Rather, they actually commended each other. Maybe it was their way of training. Maybe it was their way of strengthening their friendship.

Somehow along all this, I was pushed at the back of the crowd. This was never new, and I expected it; I couldn’t fit in to the crowd on my first day, could I?

But then a hand shot out of the crowd and pulled at my jacket. I was pulled in to the group forcefully, until I stood next to Jean. Looking down at my elbow, I saw that it was Jean who pulled me next to him.

_Was he actually able to tell I was at the back?_

He clapped my shoulder and pulled me close.

He came near to my ear and spoke, “You did well today!” He had to speak a little louder over all the noise the people were making, but I got the message just fine.

I spoke a small “thanks” as my felt my face get warmer.

 

* * *

 

 

If I thought that the hallway was noisy, I should have guessed again.

The cafeteria was noisy as fuck, as every recruit had bunched around one table. Eren sat on the table, his feet on the bench. Jean sat on the bench next to him and I sat with him. We all were handed a heavy mug full of a dark liquid – something ‘better than beer’, as Connie put it.

I was introduced to new faces, who praised the combat between Eren and Jean. I was introduced to Reiner – the guy who nuzzled Jean’s hair with his fist – and his old friend, Bert. Reiner’s voice boomed over all the others, as he recalled the fight. There was a quiet, blonde girl at the back of the crowd, as I craned my neck a little.

“That’s Annie,” Armin said as I asked of her, “She doesn’t really talk much, but she’s like that.”

Other than that, I met two others; Ymir and Christa, who were actually together. I was surprised to see an actual relationship in the midst of this hell we live in. But I was more happy than surprised.

The height difference between the two was _immense_ ; Ymir, with the freckled face and tan skin-tone was way taller than the short and petite Christa, who only reached till her shoulder. But in some fucking way, they were good for each other. You could tell from the way they never left the other, or from the way one looked at the other when the other wasn’t looking.

I’m not gonna lie; it was fucking cute.

“So, of the important announcement…” Eren trailed.

“I’m betting my fuckin’ right hand, it’s gonna be about the zombies we were chased by.” Connie spoke up, a slight slur in his speech.

“Don’t get yourself too drunk, damnit.” a girl with bright red hair – Sasha, as Jean pointed out for me – spoke, pushing Connie playfully, to which Connie just laughed and swung his arm around her shoulders.

“No doubt it’ll be about those zombies,” Armin spoke, “But what’s troubling me is what exactly is on with those zombies. It can’t be any good.”

“Armin, you worry too much.” Jean said, taking a swig of the liquor. He sighed, and spoke again, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that worrying is fucking useless, ‘cause it won’t change what’s gonna happen. So, whether the announcement is good or bad – and I’m betting on bad – we can’t do shit. So, let’s enjoy the time while it lasts.” With that, he picked out a cigarette, and lit it, puffing out a plume of thick smoke.

A kind of silence filled the room. You could feel the tension, thick and suffocating.

To distract myself I took a sip from my drink.

I fucking regretted my decision.

The minute it touched my mouth, I spat it all out; it tasted like gasoline, and it burned worse than fire down my throat.

I kept on spluttering and coughing, but the others were laughing.

“Ah, it got to you too, eh?” Reiner boomed, smacking my shoulder kindheartedly, but I could have sworn I heard a few cracks.

“You’ll get used to it.” Eren reassured, taking a long gulp of it. I couldn’t even look at him without gagging.

Everyone chuckled along, and it made me chuckle too. The mood became instantly light, and I felt at ease. And surprisingly, it was the first time I had relaxed my stiff shoulders and let out a relaxing sigh after a long time. It felt great; for a moment, no matter how small, I forgot of the apocalypse that was likely going to happen outside that room. I bet everyone had.

Braving up myself, I took a long gulp of the drink, and decided to finish the drink in one go because why the fuck not.

Everyone began chanting _chug, chug, chug_ , and until the last drop went down my throat, I slammed the mug on the table. My throat was on fucking fire, my eyes really watery, but everyone cheered for me. Connie ruffled my hair playfully, and Eren and Armin patted me on the back. Everyone was laughing, and so was I, coughing like a maniac as well.

“You’re one of us now, Marco!” Jean spoke, raising his glass to me.

I wiped my eyes, and smiled at him. He patted me on the back, smiling back.

Time lapsed on like this, until a knock came on the door.

A guard came in, and spoke in a restrained, almost mechanical voice:

“Commander Shadis would like to see you in the training room.”

 

* * *

 

 

The guard led us to the training room, which had been modified a bit.

A large, white screen was displayed on the wall, with a projector in front of it. There were some more guards lined at the doors, and some near the people that were crowded at the screen.

Commander Shadis waited for us, and instructed us to stand in the same horizontal fashion, and then told us to wait as they sort out the presentation.

“A presentation for what…?” Connie whispered beside me.

“One way to find out…” Eren whispered back, who stood next to me.

I craned my neck a little, and saw the two Heads standing, talking to each other in whispers; Commander Levi and Commander Erwin.

“Shit, it’s-“

“The two Commanders…” Jean cut Connie off. “This can only mean-“

“-That shit’s just got real.” Eren completed Jean’s statement.

“Eren, you’re being a little too blunt-“Connie began with a smirk.

“Shut the fuck up, you two.” Jean whispered harshly, while the other two suppressed their giggles under chokes.

The look that Commanders Levi and Erwin had was of determination – that much was evident – but the aura they gave off at that moment was not as stable; they were restless, and they could feel the incoming tension as well as we could. There was still a slight edginess to the two that they didn’t get when I first met them.

I had this feeling in the back of my head that this news couldn’t possibly be good. At all.

“Alright; ATTENTION CADETS!” Commander Shadis bellowed. We stomped our feet on the ground, standing straight, our feet sticking together.

“Here to deliver the announcement, we have the Heads of the Survey Corps; Commander Erwin and Commander Levi.”

We saluted the two the way we do; our right fists over our hearts, an enthusiastic cry leaving our lips.

“At ease, cadets.” Commander Erwin spoke, lifting a hand to us. We loosened ourselves, keeping our hands behind our backs. I saw the earlier unease that had left the two of them; maybe it was actually gone. Or, I wondered, they are really good at hiding it.

“Cadets, I am glad to see you all well and determined in our cause to wipe out zombies from our city of Trost,” he began, with a loud and strong voice, “And soon, we shall; with the way you all are excelling in your skills, in no time we will see the revival of Humanity. But before that, we are going to shift our tactics. Shadis, if you may.”

Commander Shadis turned the projector on, which opened up a map on the screen; it showed a blue-print, on which there was a jagged circle. As I read the label above it, my eyes grew wide.

“This here is the aerial view of Trost. As you can see, this shows the wall that the government built to keep the zombies from going out,” he explained, pointing at the blue-print. “At the moment, we are here; around the far western edge of Trost.”

He was pointing at the center of the wide circle that was our city. It was marked as a square; that showed our headquarters.

“Our plan,” he continued, “is to leave this side, and move in to the center of Trost, where our scientific wing is present."-he pointed at the square marked with an 'S'-"There, Professor Hange Zoe is working on ways to kill zombies efficiently, and until such a way is made, we’ll stay there. Along that, we’ll send regular deputations that will find the safest path to the edge of the city. We'll discuss more on that later, once we have reached there safely.”

Commander Levi came up to answer all the complicated questions before we even asked them.

“As we saw the outbreak of zombies a few days ago,” he began, his voice way louder and steadier than expected, “this is the only way left. This place is no longer safe, because we found out something." There came deep lines on his forehead, and I knew it wasn't going to be good.

He continued, his voice deeper, "The area around our headquarters,” he pointed at the small square, which zoomed to show our headquarters, “which we thought was clean of zombies, isn’t so anymore.”

At that, huge red ‘X’s marked everywhere around our headquarters. I heard collective gasps and murmurs of surprise from near me. I was too stunned; there were so fucking many. They littered literally everywhere. _How safe were we even...?_

“At ease, cadets!”Commander Levi interrupted loudly, shutting our whispers up. He continued, “The previous few days we went around double-checking the areas we cleaned. We found out that all the places we finished, have been re-populated, in ways we don’t even know. The marks on the map show the places that have been re-populated. This can only explain the reason why we were unexpectedly chased by zombies the other day.”

Commander Erwin came up once more, completing the rest for the other Commander.

He said, “By now you all have realized; this place is no longer safe. They can come up any moment, and whatever hope we have made will vanish in no time. To conserve the little hope we have made, we need to leave immediately.

We will be leaving tomorrow, at 8 AM. The Sun will be up, and it’ll be less likely that zombies may attack us in daylight. But even then, do not let your guard down, for we never know when their behavior may shift due to evolution.”

A sinister-like silence crept in to the room, slithering around us, its presence heavy and real. The last bit was eye-opening alright, because they knew exactly what we were thinking;

“The fire…” Eren whispered beside me.

The screen went blank with a flicker. The silence stayed for a while longer, after which Commander Erwin spoke again, this time his voice softer, almost as if he were consoling us.

“I know this isn’t easy on any of you, but I knew you all could shoulder this responsibility because you are capable enough. Out of the whole of Trost, you all have survived, because you all are strong enough. You all survived for a reason; to revive humanity!”

At that, Connie chuckled next to me, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Eren smirk proudly.

“We all will revive humanity from this hell, and we will remind all the zombies what we are truly made of!”

Everyone – including me – spoke out with a loud, “ _Yes, sir!_ ”

“The rise of Mankind is not far! It shall come, and we shall be the saviors! We will conquer the zombies, and we will end them!”

We all then saluted our Commanders enthusiastically, our grunts loud and clear. Our two Commanders saluted as well. Even for a man like Commander Levi, he seemed pretty pleased. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I saw that slight glimmer in his eyes, as he saluted us proudly.

Commander Erwin did so too, and then said, “You all have my utmost respect. Do not fail us; do not fail Humanity! You all may be dismissed.”

With a final salute and a ‘Yes, sir!’ we left the place.

“So,” Jean spoke next to me. I jumped a little in surprise, but eased anyway to see it was him. He continued, “This is us; spending everyday on some hope that we’ll help save Mankind.” He turned to me and asked, smirking, “You up for it? I’ll tell ya, its one fucking roller-coaster.”

Although that unsure feeling still hung over me like a blanket, there was still a buzzing sort of energy in me too, that ruled over my anxiousness; that feeling of purpose, a sense of finally doing something for our revival. It was way better than hiding away in some house, depending on luck to keep me alive the next day.

“Beats hiding away like a coward, to be honest.” I answered.

He smiled – that genuine smile I grew fond of – and circled his arm around my shoulders kindheartedly.

“Well the, strap up, buddy, it’ll be one bumpy ride!” He laughed, and I chuckled along too. That statement usually brought in me those nervous fits, but that buzzing energy only intensified in me.

Besides, that unsteadiness was with me the minute I fucking entered here; might as well live with it.

 

* * *

 

[ _here's my tumblr ayy_ ](http://captaink-irschtein.tumblr.com/)

AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING GO READ THIS [FIC](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2381780/chapters/5262092) ITS AMAZING AS FUCK ALRIGHT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for taking this long. You see the real plot has begun NOW, so it took a whole lot of time to actually plan all that. Hehehe oi - pls forgive im sorry alright?
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! You don't know how much I enjoyed writing Eren and Jean fighting like damn son I now know so much about fighting I can actually survive huehuehue
> 
> Anyway, please give me some feedback! I'd love to hear from you people! Until the next chapter, byebye ayyy


	4. Sinister Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as I was reassured that this mission will go well, I couldn't help feeling as if something could go wrong any minute; like a cold hand creeping up my neck, I couldn't shake this goddamn feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! Forgive me for the wait; I was catching up on another story of mine.  
> Okay, so from HERE the actual plot begins. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think by reviewing; they help!

**_Sinister Surprises._ **

 

 _It was dark, so_ dark _\- I could not see a thing. I reached around blindly to touch a wall, or a handle-_ something _._

_My hands felt something cool - a door knob. I quickly turned it, running inside the room. My heart-beat was roaring in my chest, blood pumping hard and fast through me. I panted, and glanced at the floor. I gasped._

_The floor was slick with_ blood _\- a thick, black fluid lurking through the red that pooled the floor and it- it was_ smeared _across the floor, like a trail... The trail ended in a room, at the end of the dark hallway, far, far away._

 _Almost instinctively, I followed it. Everything fell in to darkness behind me, as I moved forward with each step. My feet pulled off the slick floor with a sickening_ squelch _and I covered my mouth with the back of my hand, trying not to gag. I could_ feel _the darkness pressing behind me, pushing me forward, forward, forward-_

_I reached the room. I turned the knob with shaky fingers. I opened the door slowly, slowly, looking inside._

_Inside, the floor was pooling with blood,_ so red _, it was fucking blinding against the stark-white floor. I gasped as my eyes trailed to the bodies on the floor-_

 _A zombie was bent over a female, eating her- her_ leg _. The woman's face was bloodied, eyes dead, and yet she whispered, in a voice so_ familiar _it stung my eyes with tears-_

_"Marco, run."_

 

I gasped loudly, sitting up, as I woke up from my dream. I flopped back down on the sheets, my heart beating so fucking _fast_ , my eyes slightly watery, my breathing ragged.

_That damnable nightmare again._

I glanced to my left, squinting in the darkness, to look at the clock:

It was 4:53 AM.

In precisely three hours and six minutes, we would be leaving our current headquarters, and would make our way towards the "Scientific Wing" of the Survey Corps, situated in the center of Trost;

Right through the areas repopulated by more zombies.

 _Piece of cake_ , I thought.

In the silence of the night, I groaned loudly, muffling the strangled noise under my pillow.

How the _fuck_ was I supposed to survive? It had only been my first day. I could not possibly make it out alive the very next day. How could I possibly face them again?

Facing the same zombies all over again... Their appearance _alone_ was sickening enough; their weird, limping gait, with rotten faces, flesh empty in some patches on their bodies; their glassy, bulging eyes - lifeless, except for a light of maliciousness and plain insanity in those dead irises... Their black, empty maws, lined with razor sharp, yellow teeth, radiating their awful stink... And their deafening shrieks, their shrill laughter while cornering the helpless...

I did not notice my shivering hands, or the film of sweat beading over my forehead, or my shallow breathing.

_I need to get out of here._

I got up, and went to the bathroom. I bent towards the basin, and splashed my face with ice-cold water, sighing at the cool feeling, subsiding my low-lying panic. I ran my cold fingers down my neck, letting small droplets fall down my bare back.

I breathed slowly, counting my breaths calmly, trying to regain my composure, trying to stay calm for once. I knew losing it would not keep me alive; it would make me die quicker, if anything.

 _I need to stay calm_ , I told myself.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, staring at myself; my previous injuries had faded out, revealing little splotches of freckles underneath light skin. Dark purple bruises had faded to a slight pink tinge under my jaw, lining the side of my neck. I touched them gingerly, smiling slightly at that eventful day, when I was taught how to defend, strike, and never surrender. It was fun, as lame as that sounded at a time when zombies threatened our survival.

 _I need to stay calm_ , I assured myself over and over.

The voice was not mine anymore; it sounded too much of my mother.

Before the memory would blur my eyes with tears, I turned away, walking out to wear some clean clothes - a grey shirt, and a pair of black jeans, along with black boots.

I had packed my things before-hand, on advice of Commander Shadis the day before. The neat, black suit-case leaned against the bed. I sighed heavily, looking at it; here, I came with nothing, and now I had a _suit-case._ The thought made me laugh, despite _everything_. I shook my head, and made my way outside.

The hallway was dimly lit with the same red lights, placed at regular intervals at either side of the walls. As I stood outside, trying to steady my roaring heart-beat, I heard something.

 _Smack, smack, smack_.

Like someone was... _Hitting_ something?

This time, the smacks were accompanied by slight grunts.

I turned my head towards the right side of the hallway, where the pathway opened to the training room.

The noise reverberated from there, I could feel it, as the metal walls vibrated with every smack.

I gingerly made my way towards there, opening the door as silently as I could. I licked my lips, anticipating the worst that could happen; a bad habit, really.

I peeked inside, looking at the source of the noise.

I saw Jean, _of all people_ , hitting one of the plastic mannequins with his signature moves in the middle of the room. His back was towards me, so he could not see me, not yet anyway. But I chose not to disturb him, not when he was _that_ focused. I leaned against the door frame, looking at how he effortlessly dodged, and attacked, then defended and then attacked some more.

He wore a white, sleeveless shirt, his tattooed arm clearly visible, the black ink curling over his exposed skin artistically. His arms, although thinner than mine, were yet taut with muscles, and his hands were curled into hard fists, the way he taught me. His legs - clad in black jeans - were spaced apart, standing their ground firmly, knees slightly bent. His dark undercut was matted with sweat, suggesting that he must have been there for long. The back of his neck was beaded with sweat, confirming my suggestions.

But my eyes focused more on his _moves._ Like always, he moved as swift as the wind; one minute he swung his fist, the other minute he lifted his knee to attack the mannequin. He always amazed me, since the day we met, since the day he saved me, what felt like ages ago. I smiled a little, not actually noticing it. His grunts became louder with every attack, making me believe he was once again in his own zone, where he was the attacker - where maybe he was the victor of every battle.

All of a sudden, he stopped. His fists swung at his sides, arms going limp. He panted hard through his mouth, his ragged breaths echoing through the vast empty room.

Then, he spoke, not turning around yet. "I know you're there; best tell who you are."

I tensed. _Fuck; how did he tell?_

Almost on queue, he turned, assuming his battle-stance, aiming his fists at me.

But then his expression softened, and his eyes blew wide in surprise, as he noticed that it's me.

"Oh, _fuck_ , sorry Marco. God, you could have-"

I chuckled despite myself. "Hey, its okay. I'm sorry I didn't tell, you seemed really... Focused. I didn't want to disturb anything..." I trailed, explaining myself.

He barked a laugh, as he said, "Yeah, sorry about that. I do this when I'm tensed up. It's a habit." He explained himself, so sheepishly, so unlike his otherwise mean demeanor.

“Why are _you_ here, though?” Jean questioned.

I looked up at him and smiled a little, as I said, “Ah, just… Needed to clear my mind off of things, y'know...” I shook my head, suddenly embarrassed of myself; why am I here? It’s because _I’m scared,_ That sounded way too childish in front of someone who had hunted way more zombies than I could count.

“Well, if there’s one thing I can say, you _can_ make it, because I know you can. You've got potential, man, I saw it.” Jean reasoned.

“You saw it when I was running away in the supermarket?” I countered, a humorless laugh leaving my lips afterwards.

He paused, scrunching his eyebrows again, mastering his look of utter concentration. “No, I saw it when you didn’t get _eaten up_ for all these years, all on your own.” he said, pointing a finger at me. “I know all this is scary, but if you can make it out alive for more than five years, then fuck, you can make it today, tomorrow, and any other day.”

The words were not as much demanding as his _tone_ was; it made me believe in myself. It made me believe that I could _just_ make it out alive, and that I _would_. I just stared at him, mouth hanging slightly open. I stared in to his amber eyes, trying to find something that would give out his strange determination, but no; his eyes radiated that weird demanding energy, boring in to mine, making me braver, and making me believe.

 

Something fluttered in me, but I didn’t know what it was.

 

“T-thanks,” I stammered out after what felt like forever. “I didn’t know I needed it.” I muttered lamely afterwards, still feeling silly, like a child.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Jean said, as he stepped up and gripped my shoulder. The gesture was sudden, and I jolted a little as he touched me. I could feel his calloused finger-tips underneath the thin fabric of my shirt. I gulped a little.

He shook me a little, as he said, “There’s a first time for everything. We all were scared _shitless_ in the beginning. But we gave it time, so that soon, our same fears turned in to our _strengths_.” He smiled at the end of it; that genuine one, the one I liked.

_The one I… liked…?_

Before I could ponder on that, I nodded, determined to try to hone my fear, shape it in to my strength, making it fuel me to survive, and to win.

He clapped my shoulder fondly, and then said brashly, “Give it time, I’m sure it’ll work out. Besides, the sight of them makes me want to kill them _brutally_.”

He said it in his brash tone, so anyone could have taken it as a light statement. But I felt there was some truth to it, something that lay underneath his brashness. Maybe there _was_ something that fueled his rage towards the zombies; some of that raw anger I had seen light his eyes ages ago, when he fought the zombie that had attacked the truck.

I wanted to know some of the truth behind his character, like a string pulling me from inside. I just wanted to know him more, if that made sense.

“In order to survive, though, you'll need something to kill 'em with." Jean explained as he hoisted the mannequin on his shoulder, walking to put it among the other mannequins.

He dusted his hands as he put it. He walked up to me, and asked: "So, you know how to use our ammo?"

I let my eyes wander at the huge wall covered with ammunition; guns bigger than my _fucking arm_ , bombs, other guns that shot a hundred bullets per second – by the _looks_ of it – and so many other guns and weaponry that I could not make head or tail out of and wait, was that a… _bazooka_?

I gulped heavily as I shook my head.

He raised a sharp eyebrow, as he grinned cheekily. “Figured as much.” he said.

I poked my tongue at him childishly, as I said, “You can’t blame me, I've never seen these kinds of- of _freaky_ devices."

"Okay, then." Jean said. He glanced at his watch, then said, "We've still got plenty of time. I could help you pick something else. Follow me."

 

And thus he led me up a flight of metaled stairs, our heavy footsteps ringing and echoing loudly throughout the expanse. We climbed and climbed, till we reached a floor that had a label on it: "5th Floor" it said, with black, bold letters.

I followed him in to a huge room, with grey, blank walls, and a darker, marbled floor. At the end of the room hung targets about my height, shaped like a man, with black and white markings on them. The ones that stood at the front were clean and untouched, but the ones that leaned against the wall at the back were practically studded with- with _daggers_ ; some blades were the size of my palm, others were taller than _me_.

"We practice out targets here," Jean explained, as he made his way towards a table crowded with different kinds of blades and daggers. He picked up a simple dagger - a plain, polished blade, with a heavy, black hilt, its silver glinting in the light as it fit perfectly in his palm. He twirled it across his fingers over and over, his grip not even faltering once.

He kept on doing it, as he stepped up at the front. He began, "Daggers seem really useless, compared to the much larger zombies..." With his right hand, he held the blade between his thumb and forefinger. Then, he bent his elbow, and said, "But, if you can master its skills, it can surely be _deadly_."

He lined his vision towards the target. Then, with the precision of a hawk, he flicked his wrist. The dagger flew out of his hand, whizzing past, until it hit the target straight at it's head.

All I could whisper out was a hushed " _wow._ "

He turned around and beamed at me. "I'd had a lot of time to practice." He chuckled. He gave me the blade, checking it's grip on me. It was too small for me, even he noticed. He plucked it from my hand, shaking his head at it, clearly not satisfied. He said, bending over the table, "Now, let's see..."

I let my eyes trail over the loaded table. There were many blades; some small daggers, with dark hilts, and others had two blades popping out of their hilt instead of one. There were scythes larger than my arm, bows and arrows with deadly edges, and all kinds of blades that glinted dangerously in the pale light. They were all too _daunting_ , too scary for my liking. I glanced back and forth, until my eyes fell on one.

"Hm," Jean hummed, eyeing them all quietly. "Daggers will be too small for you. You won't be as precise with arrows..." He trailed.

"What about this?" I asked, picking up an axe.

It was a marvelous weapon; it had a black handle, smooth to the touch, and contrasting with its darkness was it's huge blade; it's silver was polished till it shone like a mirror. It's edge was deadly; I could feel the blade biting my skin as I gingerly touched it's edge with my finger. It was lighter than I had expected, as I held it with both hands.

"An axe?" Jean asked. He walked around me, inspecting it in my hands. "Well, you've got the height to match it, and you've got the strength too..." He stood infront of me. He turned back, and brought up a target in front of me, holding it from behind.

"Try it on this." he said.

I stuttered, "W-what if I hit you?"

"Shut up, you won't. C'mon try it!"

I shakily nodded, and gripped the handle tight. I swung it hard, a grunt emitting through my lips.

The axe bit in to the wooden target like butter, as it cracked audibly in to two whole halves. As the two halves fell down, I could see Jean star-struck behind it. He dusted his hands, still amazed.

" _Wow_ " was all he could whisper.

Out of my accord, I started laughing. Looking at me, so did Jean, his shoulders shaking.

 

* * *

 

By the time we made our way towards the cafeteria, other recruits had made their way there too. The heavy scent of bacon and eggs wafted through the air as soon as I entered. Then I felt just how fucking hungry I was, as my stomach grumbled loudly 

We got our share of breakfast, and went to the tables where I could see Eren and Armin talking, while Mikasa listened attentively. The others were too sleepy to bother listening, as Connie snored softly in his palm, Sasha snoring rather loudly as she nestled her head in her folded arms.

"Could we join?" Jean asked, sitting next to Armin.

"You had to ask?" Eren asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"C'mon, I've got _manners_." Jean reasoned, throwing a wolfish grin at him. Eren merely rolled his eyes, while Jean began his breakfast. I sat next to him, shoveling bacon hungrily in my mouth.

"As I was saying," Armin began, "all these sudden changes, this- this _rapid evolution_ , it's... It's too sinister..."

"What do you mean?" I asked, puzzled.

Armin leaned his elbows on the table, his blond bangs falling over his eyes, and suddenly everyone around the table was listening to him - Eren, Mikasa, Jean, even Sasha and Connie had awoken, and Ymir and Christa joined too. All but Reiner and Annie... Maybe they were still asleep.

He sighed heavily, and began: "Guys, haven't you ever stopped and just thought; why are we leaving now all of a sudden? We've stayed here long before these areas had been wiped off, so why _now_?

Mikasa spoke next: "And have you _seen_ the rate at which they're evolving?"

Armin paused, licking his lips anxiously. Suddenly, a deafening sort of silence hung over us like thick wool, it's presence almost suffocating.

"Marco," he said, pointing a finger at me, "have you honestly ever seen a zombie that can walk on _walls_?"

I shook my head, the memory of that wretched zombie in the supermarket flashing through my mind once more. God, I had never seen anything like that, and that was the sole reason why it scared me so much.

"The highest extent of evolutionary change we've seen is stronger resistance, and nothing else; and even that took around three years to take place." Armin reasoned. He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips, as he continued, "But that thing was on a level of its own."

Ymir swallowed her morsel heavily, as she said, "Yeah, we've never seen that kind of change. Fuck knows what else we've got in all those re-populated territories."

Even Christa shared her unease: "Yeah. But what exactly is Armin implying?"

Eren sighed, as he rubbed at his temples. "That kind of change was too fast, almost as if it were-"

"As if it were _planned_." Armin completed for him, his voice dropping to a whisper.

The silence was too much, as it thickened around us more, lurking through, leeching away our hope, and leaving something nasty and cold behind. I did not feel hungry anymore, as I pushed my tray away. All this was too much; so now not only were the zombies going on freak-mode, but its all connected too? Meaning someone's angry at us, and is plotting against us.

 _That's a comforting thought_ , I thought grudgingly.

I spoke up either way: "But Armin, are you sure you're not overly assuming things? It's a long shot to think all this is connected, as if someone was planning against us."

Armin simply shrugged, as he said, "Maybe. But I've got a bad hunch for all this; it isn't fitting right, and I can't help but think that maybe we don't have just one enemy we're dealing with."

That was a huge fucking blow; we all stared at Armin gravely, just contemplating the friendly-advice he just shared; God, we have enough on our plate already, this was basically the last thing any of us needed.

"Well," Connie croaked, his voice thick with sleep, "if it makes any of you feel better - which I _highly_ doubt - this just means we've got more bullets to drill."

Sasha, Ymir and Jean laughed brashly at that, patting Connie hard on the back. Christa rolled her eyes at Ymir, but smiled all the same.

"Hey, turns out you've got some humour in that thick skull of yours-" Sasha chided childishly, pouting at him. Ymir high-fived her, enjoying that comment.

" _Hey_." Connie said threateningly, but his eyes betrayed a light of playfulness that was too rare to find these days. Well, almost impossible, really.

"I'm sorry," Armin said sheepishly, bowing his head. He was frowning; it made him look way older than he was. "I didn't mean to make you guys worry more- ah, _sorry_ -"

" _Armin_." Eren said, holding his shoulder. He leaned close to him, as he said, "Armin, it's okay. You've got nothing to be sorry about." He said it in such a soothing tone, like one would speak to their brother. Armin smiled thankfully at him - albeit with a little anxiousness.

Jean ruffled his hair playfully, as he smiled. "If anything, Armin, you've given us a heads-up. Whatever - or _whoever_ \- this may be, they'll be sorry for messing with us." Connie whooped loudly, leaning over with a raised fist, to punch it with Jean's.

They shared a good laugh, along Ymir making fun of Connie:

"Baldie's got a spark in him, huh-"

" _Ymir_." Christa scolded.

"Sorry, babe." She kissed her cheek lightly, and even though she nudged her aside, her cheeks started growing pink.

They shared a few laughs, along with some casual conversation, as if nothing was ever discussed. We all knew the grave situations we would face; that much was inevitable. But what Armin had shared was too much to handle; we had barely survived the zombies. If it would all be connected...? Then we'd be past saving.

As I silently enjoyed their comforting presence, I  prayed to any of the silent gods up above that it wouldn't get to that.

 

* * *

 

" _At ease, cadets_!" Commander Erwin shouted, easing our salutations, as we stood in the training room. They were called to gather there at exactly 6:00 AM. 

He continued, in his bold voice: "In two hours, we will be leaving the Western Wing, and we will start our trek towards the Scientific Wing. But the journey will be long, so we will be stopping at HQ-2 before making our way towards the Scientific Wing." He pointed at a small square, lying south-west to the capital 'S' in the middle of the map they had hung; it was labelled as "HQ-2".

I could see two other similar boxes around the letter 'S'; one laid north to it, labelled as "HQ-1" (" _HQ-1" must be the old headquarter where I had been saved_ , I thought. _Only that could explain the black cross over it_ ); and an "HQ-3" laid towards the south-east of the Scientific Wing. But it stood out as more peculiar to me; while the other two were stark-bright against the grey map, "HQ-3" was dulled, so that it almost blended with the rest of the grey map, almost non-existent.

 _Maybe it had been run-down before I joined_ , I reasoned. But still the slight curiosity clung to me tightly...

By the time I was thinking it through, Commander Levi stood in front, speaking in a demanding voice:

"'HQ-1' is out of the question, because it is thickly surrounded by zombie-infested areas, as we had seen that for ourselves." He paused, running his eyes over our anxious faces. Almost as if he had rolled his eyes, he continued, "So, we opted for 'HQ-2'. As you can see, it's relatively safer. Now, we've come up with a rather different strategy, one we hope will work out.

"Instead of running straight through to HQ-2, we'll _dodge_ the denser zombie-infested areas instead." With his finger, he pointed at the blue line that traced from our "Western Wing", winding through the red "X"s marked around it, till it touched the "Scientific Wing."

Commander Erwin continued, "By this path, we'll have more chances of survival, since we won't be under threat of any attacks. It's our main priority to conserve our forces as much as we can.

"And for those wondering how we'll get there, we've got that covered too." He gestured at Commander Shadis who stood next to him, and explained: "We've given our arrangements to Shadis, and he'll explain it all to you shortly. The route will also be displayed in your vehicles' GPS, so getting lost won't be a part of the picture. Any questions?"

No one raised their hand, or voiced their opinion. Commander Levi nodded slowly, as he ran his eyes across his cadets once more. This time, he did not show any sign of disdain, or slackness. His grey-blue eyes twinkled, as a proud light crossed them, diminishing as soon as it came.

"Very well then," Commander Levi said, crossing his arms across his chest. "I expect nothing less from our cadets. Do not fail us, for Humanity depends on you."

With one more glance, Commander Erwin waved for Commander Shadis to come up and explain their stances.

 

* * *

 

 

"God, I didn't _understan-_ "

"Hey, it's okay, I'll review it again-"

 

After Commander Shadis had explained their stances in the new arrangement, the cadets were given some time to pack up provisions and the likes for themselves. At that moment, however, I was sweating every ounce of liquid in me because I only vaguely understood the _shape_ of the formation only - how and where I was to stand, _fuck_ , I knew jack-shit.

But Armin - _the literal saint_ \- had noticed my horribly-concealed nerves, and chose to help me. He pulled me towards the cafeteria and pulled out a copy of the formation we all had received.

And in his soothing and easy language, did I finally get it all. Our formation was vaguely shaped like a diamond; at the very front, were our two Commanders, and right behind them, our Commander Shadis, their boxes labelled as "C". At a slight space away from them, on either side, was to stand a guard, standing a little space behind - with the letter "G". At the eastern, western and southern tips of the formation, there were boxes labelled with a letter "E".

"These are the "elite"; they're well-trained cadets that are the back-bone of the whole formation. They defend everyone inside from any foreign attack," Armin explained to me when I asked him. "Annie will be at the end, Jean will be at the right point, and Mikasa at the left." He further explained, "They've have been at it for a long time, and they always keep us well-guarded."

"Whose been there the longest?"

Armin tipped his head thoughtfully, try to recall anything. "Hm, I think Jean's been at it for longer, 'cause Mikasa started it in front of me. But I've seen Jean do it way before too. Besides, he's one of the oldest recruits here too."

He explained the formation some more too; a large rectangular box, with the letters "Commodities" in it, stood in the middle of the whole formation. Armin explained that they will have all our ammunition, supplies, clothes, and the works. It was something priceless for us, and could not be left undefended; thus, that explained the two empty boxes - for the cadets - at either side of it. One of them was highlighted red; that showed their individual position.

I pulled my map, seeing my position. I showed it to Armin, who said, "Oh, you'll be next to Jean! Connie and Sasha will be in front of you, and Ymir behind you, next to Christa - no doubt - towards the right side of the Commodities' Truck."

"And you?"

"I'll be here," Armin told me, as he pointed at the red box highlighted towards the left of our commodities. He was behind another cadet.

"I've always been there," he said, with a weak shrug and an even weaker smile, "It's been a place for all the weaker cadets..." He trailed with such a sad expression it broke my heart in to two.

If there's one I've learnt here, it's that all cadets were one being - I had learnt that when we had sat at the cafeteria after my first practice-session; the men hollering about Jean and Eren's fight, and even the women teasing them all the same. It was an amazing feeling, and I had felt this feeling of unity with them all, even if it was only my first day. It was my first day, but I _knew_ ; the way all the cadets looked out for each other, watched each others' backs, and helped one another... There was no weaker cadet, or a stronger one. It was just one being; one body.

"Hey, Armin," I said, gripping his arm tight. I did not want him to feel that way; it would be the last thing anyone would want before they'd start this dangerous mission.

I continued, "Don't call yourself that. You're not weak just because someone else is stronger. Like- guns are better than knives, right? But knives have little intricacies of their own, so they're not entirely useless either..." I shook my head, laughing at my colorful use of metaphors.

"I'm sorry- what I'm trying to say is- is that just because you're not fit in one place, doesn't mean you're completely weak. You'll always have something others don't have, and I'm sure you'll find it and make use of it..." I finished, trailing as I saw his expression lighten up slowly, his blue eyes glimmering. It filled me with happiness, to see someone become happy because of me. If I can't be comfortable, I'll gladly make someone else comfortable.

"Th-thank you, Marco..." He replied, his voice almost shaky, smiling a watery smile of his, that suited him way more. I nodded at him in reply, and we resumed our discussion.

He further explained everything fluently and easily; I learned that we won't be travelling in a pack, for that would attract more zombies. He told me we'd be travelling in our own specialized vehicles, separating in to pairs under the Commanders' decision. Commander Shadis had explained that much easily for me to understand, and he had also announced the pairs that would be separating.

"...Connie and Sasha, Eren and Armin, Jean and Marco. That will be the pairings in which you'll be seperating under our orders. I hope you scums had cleaned your ears to hear that." Commander Shadis had said - more like _barked_ \- in that horrid voice of his.

So not only would I be next to Jean in the formation, I was paired with him too. The thought should be making me feel safe at the least, but all it gave me was this weird anxious feeling at the pit of my stomach, making my hands all clammy. I could not name the feeling yet - anxiety? Worry? Or maybe _anticipation_?

I wiped my hands over my thighs, trying to wipe away the feeling as well. I tried not to think about it too much, yet I failed miserably.

Armin rolled up his map, and tucked a stray hair behind his ear. Despite the daunting task ahead, he smiled, as he said, "It'll all be fine, we've done this more than once. Plus, you've got nothing to worry about; you've got Jean!"

I smiled despite myself - partly because of Armin's fucking contagious smile, and partly because Jean would be there too. I should take this as a sign of something good, at least.

I thanked him a million times and some more - Armin just waved me off with his smile time and time again - and together we made our way towards the basement, along with our belongings. I had never seen that part of the Wing, and thus when Armin led me down dark steeled stairways, I felt a shiver of unfamiliarity through me.

At last, we reached the end of the stairways. There was practically no light source there, nothing except the same red lights lining the walls sparsely. It eerily spread its bright hue across the dark walls, making shadows look almost demonic as they shifted and turned. I constantly turned my head around, looking for something that was clearly not there. It gave me the cold sweat; it felt as if something could go wrong any minute. Like a sixth sense.

I always did this, worrying uselessly. I finished that trail of thought away from my mind, focusing on the door Armin was trying to open. The red glow slanted across Armin's blond hair, and it created deep shadows across his cheek-bones when he turned around, and it deceived me to think whether saints could turn in to sinners or not.

Armin turned the knob, and opened it to a room. Well, not a room; it was too _huge_ to be a room. I stepped inside, and found a metaled railing in front of me; we were standing over the whole expanse of a room. It was filled with motor-bikes, that weren't actually motor-bikes; these had a slender body, metaled with steel so fine it glinted under the white light. Along with them, tons of cadets were piling their goods inside the three large metallic trucks that stood in the middle of the whole room, easily making the motor-bikes look small under it's shadow. The cadets were spread out far and wide, like little bees buzzing to and fro across the room - some delivering messages, some piling their goods, others checking their vehicles' maintenance. The endless noise of engines revving, of the sharp slap of boots against tiles, of endless chatter between fellow cadets... It almost buzzed, fueled with nervous energy, and for some reason it made me jittery. Not with nerves, no. More like hopeful anticipation, as optimistic as that sounds.

Me and Armin walked down another flight of stairs. We piled our goods in to a truck, and in no time a cadet led me towards my ride. At the edge of the room, stood Eren, waving a hand towards me. I jogged towards him. He was clad in a black shirt, with black jeans and boots - almost like everyone here. But what he had more was a cloak; it was a heavy cloak, as black as night. It hung across his shoulders with a silver button fastening it there, and it hung to cover his whole torso.

"Hey, Marco! Just in time," he ushered me closer to inspect my bike he held for me. It's handles were metaled too, glimmering under his hand. "Shadis told me to help you out with the controls. They're not hard, so you'll get it real quick."

I knew how to drive a bike beforehand, so it was not long before I understood it's new controls too. On closer inspection, there was a screen that flickered at the front of the bike, like a panel. It had dials that showed it's speed, petrol, and the works. Below it were a number of buttons, and Eren guided me through them all; a red button was it's ignition, and there were many others to show the bike's maintenance needs. An orange one acted as a GPS, to show their location in Trost. He pointed at a yellow one, which was for communication - mainly used to send reports and statuses about places they'd scout.

"But the sickest of them all," Eren said, "is this blue one." He ushered me to sit on the bike, and that I did. The leathery seat was new, but I felt comfortable. He pointed at it, urging me to press it. My eyebrows knotted at my forehead, wondering what the fuck would it do. I shrugged anyway, pressing it hard.

In the blink of an eye, a transparent blue screen shot up from the front, and covered me inside. It looked like a screen, but it was hard when I touched it. It was almost like glass, protecting me.

I was about to question, when Eren knocked from outside. "Neat, huh?" He said with a glimmering smirk. "It pops out of this in a holographic form, but instantly hardens when it's complete!"

I pressed the button again. The screen flickered, and then vanished. I laughed a little, as I shook my head, clearly amazed.

"Hey, uh..." Eren began, rubbing the back of his head, almost hesitating. I cocked my head to one side, looking at him questioningly. He stayed quiet for a moment and then he said, his green eyes shining bright:

"I - I overheard what you said to Armin, and... And I wanted to thank you. He's not doing well lately, after all that's fucking happening these days, so I just..." He slapped a hand on my shoulder, gripping it tightly. "I just... Wanted to thank you. He needed it."

I patted his hand reassuringly, as I said, "It's okay, I'm happy to help. He's a good friend."

"Oh, speaking of _good friends_ ," Eren said almost teasingly, looking behind me rather than at me. "Look who showed up."

I turned around to look, and I saw Jean. He weaved through the crowd, holding something in his hand, like a cloth. As he came nearer, I saw him wearing the same cloak as Eren, the cloak hanging across his lean shoulders, flaring with every step he took. His scythe hung at his waist, through a loop in his jeans. The bent blade glinted dangerously in the white light, making me shiver.

He stood in front of me. Without a moment's hesitance, he quickly said "Head's up!" before flinging the dark cloth at me.

My reaction-time was fucking slow, so it slapped right at my face. I exclaimed surprisingly, the wordless cry gone garbled under the fucking cloth over me.

Jean and Eren laughed, not surprisingly. I internally rolled my eyes. I picked at it, and gasped as my eyes fell on it.

It was the same cloak the other cadets wore, but I saw it's back up close. It had the marvelous Survey Corps' wings stitched on it; one of the wings was colored a bright blue, shining against the pitch-black. The other was a startling silver wing, as if it were stitched out of real steel. They both merged in to a pair, united and strong, as it symbolized the Survey Corps and it's cadets; fighters, fighting for Humanity's flight to freedom.

"I must say: one thing the Corps' really have, is a sense of _style_." Eren commented, as he leaned casually against his bike, a lazy smile on his face.

"So will you put it on or not?" Jean asked, folding his arms, waiting.

I obliged, throwing the cloak over my shoulders. It was heavy, but as I fastened it at my left shoulder, I couldn't help feeling comfortable in it - as if it were made for me. It ended right over my torso, the ends flaring a little. I turned in a circle, inspecting it over me. I saw Jean eyeing me in it, nodding slowly at the fit. I felt my cheeks burn.

"Nice, I must say." Jean said. My cheeks could have _self-combusted, God._

Eren piped in, holding us both by the shoulders, as he said:

"Ready to rumble?"

 

* * *

 

 _"CADETS!_ We honor you all to join us in this mission of ours!" Commander Erwin addressed to us cadets, in his loud, booming voice.

We were stationed at our positions according to the map, as we awaited the signal. We all sat on our bikes, listening to the Commander's instructions. My hands were all clammy, and more than once did I have to wipe them across my jeans. I tried to calm down, but I still couldn't help feeling afraid, of what was to come.

Commander Erwin continued, "For years, we have stayed holed up, letting the zombies infest us, till we were close to nothing. But we, the Survey Corps, are the representatives of Humanity! We will take a step forward, towards our revolution! The days of victory are near; soon, Humanity will _rise_!"

At that, all the cadets lifted their fists and exclaimed with gusts of pure energy, and funnily, I found myself shouting along with my fellow cadets. I saw Jean, Armin, Ymir, Eren and everyone else exclaim with emotion - even Annie graced a smile on her lips, way at the back. And in a split second, I felt a smile tug at my lips; my anxiety had turned in to pure adrenaline, rushing through me, fueling me to move forward with this mission.

"Cadets!" Commander Shadis shouted, "We will move on in our formation. Once we give the command, you shall split up in your respective pairs. The Commodities shall stay in the middle, and the guards and cadets are to remain in their places, defending it. The left part of the formation shall disperse to their left, and the right part, to their right. Await our command before proceeding. Do not fail us!"

A few more enthusiastic war cries erupted from the cadets, the energy rippling through the room - you could have _felt_ it. It felt fucking exhilarating.

I gripped the handle of my axe hard - I felt like I could do something for Humanity. I knew it.

The Commanders held their positions. Commander Shadis gave the order:

"Ignite your engines!"

Everyone did so, and the noise of engines revving reverberated across the room. I could feel the engine of my bike rumbling underneath me. I held the bike by the handles, as I gripped it tighter. My hands were no longer sweaty.

"Cadets; _forward_!"

With a united war cry, the gates opened. The cold air from outside rushed in, cloaks flapping wildly. As soon as the gates opened completely, we moved forward.

The engines rumbled noisily as we made our way outside the Western Wing, out in to the open.

As I rode outside the Wing, the first thing I noticed was how _quiet_ it was; you could have heard the resonance of a pin dropping. Grey, dull buildings loomed over us as we made our way deeper in to the once-proud city of Trost. Morning mist was still heavy, as it clouded everything that laid in a 10-mile radius. The Sun was hidden behind heavy clouds, nowhere to be seen.

Trost was not alive anymore; it was as dead as its people.

The thought made my heart heavy; it was not that long ago, when there used to be children playing noisily across streets, running here and there, or busy people hastily walking to their work. Trost was never quiet, and now it was almost as if Silence were a presence itself - something you could feel.

We wound our way through empty alleys and roads, the cold air rushing through us, the noise of our bikes cutting through the heavy silence like knife through butter. I covered my head with the hood of my cloak, giving me some semblance of protection against the sharp air.

Once we made out way towards the Main Road, Commander Levi ordered, raising a hand to alert us:

"Cadets; _disperse_! Await our instructions for any further change!"

On queue, all the cadets dispersed in to their respective pairs. I guided my bike towards the right, joining Jean as he turned right, in to a narrow alley.

It was empty - as usual - as it wound deeper and deeper. The end was nothing but a cloud of mist. So I could do nothing but follow Jean deeper and deeper as we went.

"Stay close," Jean said, "and you'll be fine. But keep your eyes peeled; you never know when you'll be surprised." His voice was slightly muffled under the mask he wore - the same skeleton teeth that smiled eerily at anyone who laid eyes on it. Maybe he wore it to scare the zombies away, fuck only knows.

 _But still_ , I thought to myself, _I'd like to know its reason._

"Okay!" I replied back.

As we turned and twisted through the alley, Jean guided me to another road, that one slightly wider. I pressed the orange button to show the map - and I saw we were on track with them. That gave me some relief.

We drove like this for a long, long time. As it struck 9:30 AM in my watch, the Sun slowly peeked out of the heavy clouds, throwing sunlight across the dull, dead buildings. They towered over us, each building taller than the other, the glassed-windows glinting under the sunlight.

As we rode deeper and deeper, the mist began to fade, and as my eyes settled on what lay beyond, I gasped loudly.

All the smaller houses and buildings that used to be filled with people to the brim, was nothing but dusty rubble and piles of ash. Buildings among them were reduced to ruins, some taller buildings cut in half. My eyes tried to find something whole, but found nothing.

My eyes fell on the road; shattered pieces of glass were spread everywhere, as it crunched under our tires, the noise echoing across the lifeless road. There were beat-up and busted cars, some that had caught fire, plumes of heavy smoke still rising high in to the sky. But _fuck_ \- there was so much blood; red splayed darkly across the gravelly road. There was some kind of black liquid smeared too - zombie-blood, no doubt.

I tried not to hurl, I tried not to recall my nightmares, I tried to hold on, as I rode forward, on and on. I bit my lower-lip so fucking hard it could have drawn out blood.

I choked back a sob as I saw a little doll that a dead girl cradled in her arms, her weak frame leaning against a burnt house - her arms were bloodied, her eyes glassy and dead, and yet she held the doll, as if she hoped beyond hopes that it could save her, as the world crashed down around her.

"Marco. _Marco_!"

I was breathing heavily, my hands shaking. I gripped the handle-bars tighter, nodding quickly.

I gulped down the taste of bile, but still I managed to say, "I'm - I'm alright!"

Jean pulled down his mask. He was riding ahead, but still said, "Hey, take it easy. Don't forget, we're here to avenge them, yeah?" Then he pulled on his mask, and said, "Now let's show those bastards whose boss."

I never agreed to anything more than what Jean had said there.

As we wound through more roads and alleys through the late-Trost, I heard a distant rustling.

Jean motioned me to slow down, and we both did, hearing for the noise.

The rustling was accompanied by a scratching noise - like nails across stone.

The scratching intensified, as it echoed across the whole road. It made me grit my teeth in irritation. A cold sweat grew over my brow. This noise can't be good.

We stopped, searching for the source of the noise. At once, the rustling and scratching died. An eerie sort of silence descended upon us, even more sinister than the rustling.

I licked my lips in anticipation. One false move, one step too late, and I'll be a goner.

Moments passed in deadly silence, none of us making any intitative move. We stepped off our bikes, not moving forward, not yet. I turned to look at a dark alley that cut through two buildings at the left side of the road, far away from where we stood. I saw two glinting... _Lights_?

"Jean, what are those lights...?" I asked, pointing to those lights in the dark.

He followed my line of sight, and eyed it with equal confusion. He took two steps forward, pulling out his gun, and then stopped. He stood as still as a statue, not even blinking.

"Those aren't lights." he whispered.

I looked at them again, and then I understood.

 _Fuck_.

The two lights were actually _eyes_ \- and as the form stepped in to the open, I recognized its weak gait, its deformed and incomplete body, its black, empty maw, and its dead, crazy eyes.

My breath left me.

The zombie stepped forward - not stepping, it was crawling on all fours. It made no noise at all, not even as it crawled forward, it's sharp nails soundlessly moving across gravel. It stood up, still deadly silent.

Those dead eyes bore directly in to mine, seeping any kind of hope out of me, replacing it with a horrible feeling of pure _dread_.

Jean held his gun higher, aiming it at his head, not pulling the trigger. Not yet. He was waiting for the perfect time, the perfect shot.

I held my axe, threatening the zombie with its blade.

Then the zombie shrieked - this shrill sound like no other I've ever heard. It was so _loud_ , making my ear-drums throb, as I clutched my head in pain. I saw Jean doing the same, his teeth gritting in anger and irritation. The scream ensued - _so fucking loud, fuck_ \- as it grew louder and louder - almost all the corners of Trost could have heard it.

It went on, until Jean shouted, stood and pulled the trigger.

The bullet hit the zombie at his neck, not enough to kill him, but it definitely shut it up.

He closed his huge mouth, turning it in to a thin, evil smile. It looked straight at Jean.

It opened it's mouth. I expected it to to scream again, but instead it- it _spoke_ :

" _Look out, Human_."

It wasn't human - it was too gravelly, still too deep and yet too thin to be human - but it was audible.

I felt my head go light.

It started crawling again. It was so fucking _fast_ , in the blink of an eye it was half-way towards Jean. But it must have forgotten me.

I screamed as I lifted my axe. I ran fast, my legs burning, meeting the zombie before it could meet Jean. Jean drilled more bullets in to him, but they did nothing to fucking slow it down. If anything, the zombie enjoyed it, as its lips pulled into a larger smile.

The zombie opened it's mouth, and fucking jumped in mid-air, trying to land on Jean. Jean held his scythe, his face gone pale white.

But I met it first.

I jumped, and swung my axe, shouting as I aimed it at it's gruesome face.

With a loud slash, the blade dug in to the zombie's rotten flesh, and fell some distance far. It was enough for Jean to regain his bearings, as he stared at me.

But I ran towards the zombie, that laid bloody and slashed-up on the ground, black fluid oozing out of his neck from where I struck him.

Without a moment's hesitance, I lifted my axe and struck it, cutting off it's head, more black blood spraying everywhere.

I wiped my mouth, no longer feeling bile in my mouth.

I turned to Jean, and asked him, "You're okay?"

He nodded, as he said, "Yeah. Yeah, th-"

But I felt movement from behind him - another zombie was crawling over the fucking walls behind Jean, nearing and nearing until it jumped, running at Jean.

"Jean, look out-"

Jean turned just in time, and prepared his scythe just in time. He let it near him - and when it came, Jean cut it's neck expertly with one swing, the zombie yowling noisily in pain as it fell to it's death.

He panted as he wiped the blackness that sprayed across his cheek, as he said hurriedly:

"We need to fucking leave - _now_."

We quickly mounted our bikes and sped through the streets. We needed to put as much distance as we could between us and those goddamn zombies.

Jean worked on sending a message, pronto - he tried making contact, but the signals were weak; he couldn't reach the Commanders.

" _Fuck_!" He cursed, as he tried for the umpteenth time. "We need to move in; we need to let them know about this, and quick."

"But I thought a few zombies were common-"

"Yeah, but _talking zombies_ are anything but common." Jean said, his voice harsh. "We need to move in. I don't have a good feeling here."

I didn't feel okay since we stepped outside; my goddamned sixth sense had me feeling as if something could go wrong any minute, any moment. When those zombies appeared, that feeling only intensified.

Those fucking _words_ were still playing in my mind:

" _Look out, Human._ "

It made me feel as if he were warning us for a much, much larger threat, something we had never seen.

I tried to push it away, I tried to reason with myself-

-Until I was interrupted by loud screams.

The shrieks were louder than the zombie's scream, and it made me lose my concentration. It was so loud, it hurt. My bike wobbled beneath me, and it took everything in me to stay upright - it felt like it fucking drilled holes in my brain. I grunted in pain, wishing for the noise to stop, _just stop, fucking stop!_

 _Worse_ , it made me feel weak, finishing off any kind of hopeful feeling, and replacing it with not only dread, but pure, real and honest _fear_.

Jean and I stopped, the noise too fucking _loud_ -

Finally, it stopped.

We slowly turned to look behind us.

We stared at the end of the dark road behind us, from where the screams had erupted.

Then, a faint laughter ensued, so faint, one could have missed it.

It gradually increased, until it was the only thing the whole of Trost could have heard.

Jean stood fixated, his eyes still.

I felt the life inside of me leave.

_Damn my fucking sixth sense._

On queue, hundreds of zombies started flooding the empty road, their jaws wide open, hungry for human blood.

 

* * *

 

yo I got a [Tumblr](captaink-irschtein.tumblr.com)


	5. Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm more than willing to die, if it means that a brighter future will be seen, as sure as daylight. But after learning the cost of Humanity's revival, will my death mean anything in the end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whEEZE ITS BEEN A LONG TIME HI HI  
> I'm so sorry I took so long - I was actually done with this ages ago, my internet wasn't strong enough so yeah ;-; BUT this one is longer, and filled with a lot of action; hope you enjoy it!
> 
> WARNING: There are mentions of blood and gore-y themes, so just a forewarning c:

On queue, hundreds of zombies started flooding the empty road, their jaws wide open, hungry for human blood.

* * *

 

 

"Holy shit-" I heard Jean mutter.

But his voice was all but a whisper, compared to the loud, stinging wails of the zombies that ran toward us. The sounds of hungry moans, the noise of evil laughter, the resonance of sharp claws against gravel _stung_ , my ears fucking hurting. I couldn't even peel my eyes off of them; there could have been around a hundred of them, all of them super-fast, and all of them fucking hungry. As they came closer and closer - their horrible sounds and daunting presence suffocating me - I felt my life leave me faster and faster. The grip on my axe slackened. I could not fucking move; I felt so helpless, so weak. My legs were shaking, my body went limp, and I could have stumbled to my knees right there, surrendering myself to the clutches of death in front of me - running towards me hungrily.

To my horror, I almost felt okay that those zombies were coming to end me - swiftly, I hoped. As one of those fuckers made eye-contact with me - the zombie baring its black teeth - I was almost ready to leave this Hell-hole; once and for all. I could have leaned in to those open jaws, stinking of death; I was ready to give up.

"Oh no you're not- _MARCO_!" Jean screamed, waking me up. By the time my eyes focussed, the zombies were only a few feet away from us. Within seconds, they could get their hands on us, devouring us alive-

-If it weren't for Jean, hauling me on my bike by my cloak. He wasted no time in getting his bike, for it had fallen sideways a few feet apart. He sat behind me, and urged me to move - and that I fucking did.

Within moments, we were moving again, only this time the zombies were after our lives, with alien-like speed and monstrous hunger. The cold air cut through us sharply as we whizzed past tall, grey buildings that jutted out from the earth like sharp fangs, all moving behind me in a blur. I pressed the blue button - to let the holographic shield form before us, giving us some semblance of protection. I felt Jean's tense hands on my waist as he neared me - and I could have sworn I could feel his hammering heart-beat.

I rode on, faster than I ever had before, but those fucking awful noises did not cease - they only intensified. I chanced a glance behind me, and instantly regretted it; fuck, if anything, they only came nearer. I could see how hungry they were - and strangely, I could see how angry they were; there was a glint of red hot rage I saw in those dead eyes - as if they were being driven by some anger of their own, an anger much like how we have, for them.

And yet the zombies laughed merrily as they chased us - enjoying a cruel, gruesome game of cat-and-mouse, I thought grudgingly. We just weren't fast enough - the zombies were able to catch us even at top speed.

"They- they're too fast-" I spoke. But Jean cut me off:

"Marco, clear out the shield!"

"Have you gone _nuts_?!"

"Just do it-"

"They'll get us easier that way-"

" _Trust me!_ "

I turned again, to look at him. I believed him to be joking, to have suggested such a thing. But no; he was as determined as ever - his eyes were burning with that steely determination I had seen before. He had grown pale, but that steely steadiness in him was unmoving; strong, demanding. I could not help but gulp dryly, and nod.

"I hope you've thought this through!" I shouted, as I disconnected the shield.

"I got this," he breathed in my right ear slowly, before I felt him shift. A moment later I felt his back pressed up against mine, as he sat in the opposite direction - Shit, he must be facing the swarm of zombies behind us, I realized to my shock. I heard him cock two guns (from where he pulled them out, fuck only knows) and before I knew it, he was shooting the zombies behind us quite efficiently. One bullet flew after the next, and as I glanced behind once more, I was happy to see the mass gone a little farther away; most of the clumsy zombies tripped over the bleeding ones - the ones that Jean shot. I dared to laugh at that moment.

But then I noticed something to my disgust; no matter how many Jean gunned down, more replaced them. Two zombies would replace each zombie he gunned down. The mass of zombies just failed to fucking lessen - it was persistent on the scent of our blood and flesh. If anything, their laughter grew even shriller with every bullet Jean drilled into them - and that was fucking disturbing.

"We need to get out of here!" Jean shouted in my ear. One of his guns emptied, and he instinctively threw it at an oncoming zombie - that hit it straight at its head - and he continued shooting with the other one. I snapped my eyes back at the road.

 _Adapt, adapt, I have to adapt myself to my surroundings._ We were whizzing past buildings at such an alarming rate I barely even knew where we were. I tried turning the GPS on, but it failed to open, like the way our communication systems ceased to work. All I knew was that we were far, far away from the Main Road.

Thoughts anxiously rushed past my mind at an alarmingly fast rate. I had to do something. If I didn't change tactics right there, the zombies would be able to chase us - and would succeed.

I looked around, trying to recognize where I was. Buildings were all but a grey blur, at the speed I was passing by. It was hard to tell where I was. Every road I crossed, every alley I passed, it all felt like a whole other world. There was no telling whether this empty, abandoned city was Trost, or just a remnant of it - like a grave.

All of a sudden, my eyes fell on something - a lone, red and rusty swing, standing alone amidst the rubble... The rubble that must have been our neighbourhood park...

It was as if someone turned on the lights inside my mind.

 _I know where I am_ , I suddenly thought.

"Jean, hold on!" I shouted.

I heard Jean yelp as I instantly guided the bike through a narrow alley, turning the vehicle sharply to my left.

This place... It was my neighbourhood.

I know where I am.

I rode the bike through another alley, then another, and another, each alley narrower, each alley more complex than the one before. Had there been more bodies I passed by, like the child I had seen not so long ago? Had there been innocent people that were killed here? I was in too much of a rush to think - I just did; I just adapted. Houses and towers blurred past me once more, but the difference this time was that I knew where I was.

The zombies wanted to play cat-and-mouse? Like I was gonna fucking give in that easily.

My new tactic helped the zombies growl and scream in irritation as I tried to confuse them. Though it bought us some time - and life - for us, it only helped slightly; most of the zombies had yelled in confusion, but some zombies were smart and fast enough to catch up behind us soon, their claw-like hands only a few deadly feet away from us.

"They're still gaining on us!" Jean exclaimed in my ear. His other gun gave up on him too, sadly, as I heard it click noisily. He threw it at another on-coming zombie that was a foot apart from us. I felt Jean shift behind me, and before I could do so much as glance behind me, I heard him slash at something with a sickening _squelch_. Something wet fell on my cheek. I touched it, and saw its black color. I peeked behind me, staring at Jean in horror, as he fucking _stood_ on the bike. His balance was oddly perfect; he didn't even sway, as he swiftly attacked the zombies that were inches away from us, with his scythe in his hand.

I swallowed down the urge to wipe my hands against my jeans in anxiousness, as I planned my next move. God, this plan must work.

"Hate to break it to you, but sit tight, Jean!" I exclaimed at him. He listened attentively, and sat face-front again.

"Marco, I hope you know what you're doing!" Jean shouted in my ear. I heard another grunt, as he twisted and attacked another zombie with his scythe, the blade already slick with black blood.

"Hold on!" With that, right at the last minute, I took a sharp turn to the right.

Suddenly, all the noises ceased to be, the noise of the zombies diminishing almost abruptly - just what I wanted to happen. Everything fell behind a curtain of darkness, the sight incredibly odd considering it was early morning. But there was a reason behind it too.

It's because this tiny alley was covered with thatched roofs from above, to prevent rain from flooding those tiny lanes. If one would squint up above, they could make out the holes of light popping through the darkness. It reassured me; I'm in the right direction. This lane was almost non-existant to most, but not to me.

I heard Jean gasp as we rode through the darkness. His hands tensed around my waist even more, and I wanted to reassure him by holding his hand, or by whispering to him that _we'll get out_ , eventually. It was definitely something I was reassuring myself.

Jean panted behind me, as he whispered, "Wh-where are we?"

"This is a small part of my neighbourhood." I replied. "I realized it was after I saw a swing not too long ago. It was the park, where I used to play..." I trailed, as memories played in my mind; of legs aching with each heaving breath I took around the swing, of breathless laughter, and of blissful times spent in the park. I remember being in this alley many times as well, while hiding from my friends in a tactful game of hide-and-seek. I'd be afraid of the dark before, but the same peeks of light above me softened my fear; the same way it still did. My heart threatened to waver, with sudden emotions, as something throbbed in my throat. I tried swallowing it down quickly, keeping my head clear, training my eyes ahead. _Adapt_.

"And you're sure you know of this place?"

"Yeah, of course I do. I used to play hide-and-seek here, when I was a kid."

"Huh." He laughed a little, the soft sound resonating through the alley. "That's a comforting thought." I could have sworn he was smiling around those words. I only hummed in response, allowing a little smile to grace my lips as well, lined with nostalgia.

Although the sudden silence was welcoming, it also wasn't. It only made my skin prickle with fear as it persisted for a moment too long - only God knows where they were at that moment. Maybe they would creep up on us, or find us - or worse; they could be ahead of us, just silently waiting for us to come out of the other side. I better not let Jean know this is just me winging it.

I saw a distant opening to this blissful darkness. The light grew larger and larger as we neared it. My heart hammered against my rib-cage, and I felt Jean's hands tremble slightly. He was feeling the same thing as I was, it seemed. Holding our breaths, we rode out of the dark alley.

The bright light washed over us suddenly, and we winced. I blinked once, twice, and took notice of my surroundings. The road was empty, besides some rotten, broken-down wooden houses lined on either side. The tall grey buildings stood far away from us, as I looked beyond. Upon squinting, I could make out the Wall that stood tall and proud, seperating us from the world outside. It all but looked like a thin, jagged line from this distance. Who knew such an insignificant speck on a canvas could be seperating us from the real world, like a bird trapped in a cage - a much grimmer cage, in this case. I looked around me once more, taking note of any strange things, any noise, any presence...

"Looks like we're away from them - for now," I spoke up.

"Thank God," Jean breathed out, but then he spoke again, this time uncertainly: "But we still better go back to the other guys, and quick. I've got a bad feeling about this place..."

I looked behind me again, as a precaution. The road behind seemed clear enough; nothing but a few beat-up cars, and burnt down homes. Far away, till my eye could reach, there was no sign of any zombie - I couldn't hear their gruesome noises, let alone smell their awful scent. There was no sign of any zombie, any sound, or any presence, really, that I could have noticed. And yet, it was a little too quite; as if they could pop up and surprise us any minute...

The quiet persisted longer and longer, and the anxiety of what might happen started suffocating me. Other worries suffocated me too - if such a huge mass of zombies had attacked us, I can only imagine what would have happened to the others out there. I tried sending a message, I tried to contact them in some way - but every kind of signalling system was cut off, leaving us helpless. Now I could only hope for the recruits' safety, and do nothing else.

The deafening silence continued, the absence of sound becoming unusually uncomfortable. It should be a sign of safety, since the sickening noises of zombies had long-gone finished. And yet...

And yet, it felt as if they were planning for the perfect timing, the perfect moment to strike back; to strike back hard.

Just as the thought passed my mind, the world errupted with a loud, splintering noise, like wood being torn apart. Bits of sharp, burning debris flew, hitting us. I shielded myself from the sharp rubble. I opened my eyes hurriedly - and my mouth dropped in horror:

In a matter of seconds, zombies flooded the once-empty road again, breaking right through a fucking house, the wooden beams becoming nothing but a broken pile of rubble - right in front of us.

Fuck.

I screeched the bike to a sudden halt. Jean's hands rested on my shoulders, and I could feel his fingers shaking - it was hard not to, considering what was happening in front of us: the zombies laughed once more, in their weird, sinister way, as they just stood there, eyeing us - their prey. From behind them, more zombies came, and within moments, their mass doubled - this many... These were way, way more than the ones before. I gulped dryly, terror filling every corner inside of me. How did they find us-?

Scarily, every zombie's eyes were filled with that manic anger. They weren't laughing now. They screamed, their hoarse voices lined with downright rage -

\- and then they ran right at us.

"How did they-" Jean whispered shakily. I gave no thought to Jean's question - and did not want to either; I was losing my mind enough already. Instead, I held the handles of the bike harder, eyeing another alley right beside me. I turned to my left sharply, trying to outrun those goddamned creatures. To my utter disappointment, I heard their wails and moans again. Their disturbing noises cut through the silent city of Trost, the heavy, rotten scent of death tailing us desperately. Despite the cold air that flew over us, sweat bordered my brow, as I tried to think of something else, some way to end them.

Jean cursed loudly as their screams intesified, coming near us yet again. He said hurriedly, "It's no use! They just won't fucking go-"

"Don't you have any other ammo?"

"I had two guns, and all they did was jack shit." He groaned, pressing his forehead in to my shoulder, before saying, "We'll never make it out alive at this rate."

Those words hit me like a tidal wave, even though I had considered it more than once. It was true; by judging the current circumstances, we would be caught. Our fuel would finish at some moment, and the thought after was just as devastating as the one before. It was funny, since we had just promised to succeed in reviving Humanity a few hours ago. Was Fate that cruel, that it could change our intentions in mere moments? How could we promise to "revive Humanity" like this? How could we do that if we die? How could we do that if we just... Gave up?

"We still have to fight. We still have to-" I began shakily, but the scene ahead made me stop myself.

As the alley opened to a much wider road, I saw a run-down gas station, standing around piles of ash and debris. Like all the other buildings, this one was vacant, and grey with disuse too. The sharp scent of petrol hung in the air, and my suspicions were confirmed as I saw a thin sheen of liquid over the floor of the station - it was petrol. It trailed right till the edge of the gravelly road...

Almost instantly, a brilliant yet horrible plan popped in my mind. It was logical, and the only shot they had, and if this didn't work then the only thing left for them was imminent (and sudden) death.

We are partially screwed at the moment, I thought. Might as well try it.

Gulping down the taste of bile from my mouth, I said, "Jean, I've got a plan!" I shared my plan with him, and just as expected, his eyebrows shot up till his hairline, as he shook his head:

"Hell no, Marco. Do you wanna get killed that badly?"

"Its either this, or imminent death, so take your pick!" I countered stubbornly. This was no time to out-weigh a plan, Jean should know that. A risky plan is better than no plan at all.

This plan could be executed well, it could - even if it was too risky. I couldn't care less at that moment. I'd gladly take any chance for my survival.

The zombies kept on tailing us. This road had no alley, so there was no chance of outwitting those brainless creatures. We had to keep moving forward, and if we wanted to live, we had to go according to the plan - even though it was horribly flawed and filled with faults.

Jean groaned, running a hand down his face, "Fine, fine! But if we die I'm blaming you."

"And if we live, you're allowed to punch me."

"Deal, Marco Bodt." With a humourless laugh from both of us, we rode. The gas station came nearer as the seconds passed. I started calculating the strategies for this plan to work; the zombies had to be just near us, or else it wouldn't work. And our little stunt had to be coordinated well, otherwise we're as good as dead.

"Ready yourself!" I warned.

With that, we both drew our weapons out, holding them in our hands. I held the bike by one hand, the other holding the axe with a death-grip, knuckles gone stark-white. I held my breath, calculating the perfect time to strike. This plan has to work.

The gruesome presence of zombies behind us grew thick, coming near us with every second. It felt like they were fucking breathing down our necks-

Sweat trickled down my brow, my breath going shaky with every aching moment. I bit my lip to keep myself from exclaiming, trying to keep myself composed, steady...

Steady...

The gas station stood a few yards away from us.

This plan has to work.

A few yards turned in to a few feet. I gripped my weapon tighter, waiting...

_It has to._

"NOW!"

Abruptly, I jerked the bike sharply to the right. The bike was only a few feet away from the ground, and within those few seconds, our lives mattered.

Together, we dragged the sharp blades of our weapons across the road to our left hard - the sharp clang and scrape of metal on gravel cutting through the shrieks of the zombies. Heated sparks flew like a fountain from where we struck the ground. I held my breath. Everything seemed to have stopped for a moment.

The sparks flew, and landed right at the petrol on the ground. The sparks turned bigger, filled with heat. Within seconds the petrol was on fire, the flames licking and creeping up the trail in a blaze. The fire roared and crackled, able to dim the loud wails of zombies for one moment.

I grunted, as I tipped the bike back upwards, and dared not to look back, afraid of what I'd see.

Please, please, please work.

The bike zoomed past more buildings, as I awaited the results of our plan. Please-

Suddenly, the world exploded behind me.

Heat seared at my cloak, my skin burning, even from this distance. The force coming from behind me was fucking massive; I felt it physically push me, my teeth gritting from the gigantic force - as if my bones were near breaking. Jean's hands gripped my waist tightly. I could hear his grunt of pain from behind me - and it urged me to get the fuck out of here, and quickly.

I moved on, riding faster, not daring to look back even yet. Only after taking a curve towards another road, did I hear Jean laugh shakily from behind me.

"We did it." he whispered, positively smiling.

This time, I allowed myself to turn around- and saw no sign of zombies. The presence of the sea of zombies after us existed no more, becoming as non-existant as life over here. All that remained were the thick plumes of black smoke that rose up in the grey sky, like crawling tendrils, far away from us. Finally, the horrible yells and squaks of the undead had ceased, and as uncomfortable as I had found the silence before, I fucking relished it now.

We were safe. We lived.

I found myself laughing, albeit shakily, with Jean, over our small victory. The plan was horribly flawed, and yet it kept us alive. It kept us going.

Jean laughed as well, patting me on the back. And despite his calloused, bruised skin, he had warmth underneath it all; he had comfort with it, and in that moment, I could feel it over me, like an embrace. It made me feel warm.

Recognizing my surroundings once more, I led the bike to the Main Road. Although this tiny victory made my insides flutter with excitement and adrenaline, the fact still remained: how the fuck were zombies able to pin-point our exact location - and chase us in daylight? They had never done that before, and the fucking mass of zombies scared me even more. If these zombies were just after us, God only knows the zombies after the Commodoties...

I quickly wiped away that trail of thought, immediately adapting to my surroundings. Worrying uselessly would only mentally exhaust me (and physical exhaution was more than enough.)

After a while (and some navigational help from Jean) we came near to the Main Road. It was only one turn away, when we heard a massive cry. Not of a zombie, this time;

This was of a human.

Shit.

"Oh God-" I whispered. Without another word, I turned the bike in to the last turn. As the bike sped on, my breathing turned shallow - my suspicions were correct. What if the zombies had attacked them- shit-

The bike finally entered the Main Road. I stopped abruptly, screeching it to a halt. I panted hard, and shakily, looking around me. My breath caught in my throat as I saw-

The scene beyond left me speechless. This is what Hell must look like. All I could see was chaos.

If the zombies after us was a whole mass, this was a huge army; zombies of super-speed and alien-like abilities chased the recruits of the Survey Corps as easily as a cat would chase mice. Everything was being destroyed right before my eyes - vehicles, as well as people. From where I stood, I could see only a few bikes that moved, most fighting on foot - or being defeated. The zombies did not even seem to fall back; the army of the undead only pushed on, harder, and harder and harder. Any zombie killed would be replaced by three more. A few of the guards were fighting two zombies at a time, and others were not so lucky; out of the corner of my eye, I could see one cackling zombie drag away a man, garbed in a black cloak- no-

God, no.

One of the Commodoties truck whizzed past us, dodging dead zombies and fallen recruits alike. I saw a few of the recruits on them as well. Atleast they were safe. Another truck was piling in more recruits that were wounded, slowing a little as it did so. But I could not see the third Commodoties Truck. It made my blood freeze; each of our trucks were essential for us. If they were attacked, or destroyed... Who knows what we'd lose. We had lost enough already - no more.

As the second Truck collected a few more recruits, it sped on past us. On queue, the panel on the bike started to glow red - indicating that we were low on petrol. Upon Jean's advice, I rode towards the truck nearest to us. We had enough fuel to accelerate to meet them, and quickly. A few of the hungrier zombies had caught our scent, and more than a few had started trailing their eyes over us.

As I neared the truck, I heard Eren grunt as he attacked at two zombies with his long-swords behind me, his blades turning in to silvery blurs. Armin rode beside him, swiftly shooting the zombies after him, albeit with a little shakiness. I could not even see the rest, the more familiar recruits - and it scared me so much more.

One zombie crawled towards us, and jumped, shrieking in mid-air. It's jaws were insanely huge, black teeth bordering the edges-

But I lifted my axe and swung hard, a grunt escaping my lips. The blade caught it right at its throat, spraying black blood everywhere. I threw the corpse to the side, letting it stumble behind me. Jean attacked another zombie, tailing behind them. His blade all but detached the zombie's head completely. The head flung far away, while the body crumpled and fell, falling far away.

Thankfully, the doors of the truck were ripped away, making it easier for us to land in. The bike slowed as we neared the second truck, wobbling a little. Jean was the first one to stand and jump in. The next turn was mine. By the time I stood, the bike had all but stopped working. As I stepped forward, bending my knees to jump, the bike under me slipped, and so did I, a hand outstretched-

-But Jean gripped my forearm tightly, hauling me inside, safe and sound. I bumped heavily in to his sturdy chest, and for a moment our eyes locked. We nodded at each other, a sort of silent dialogue passing between us - one I somehow understood. As we stumbled inside, I saw some of the others inside too: I saw Sasha knocking arrows from behind her, and swiftly drilling the mass of zombies that followed beyond. I even saw Christa, who used a gun much bigger than her, to kill the zombies that crawled over the walls of the buildings. Connie crouched beside her, gunning down any zombie near them - I noticed the blood that ran down his forehead, but he didn't. His eyes were trained too intently on the zombies he targetted. I looked up to see the lower-half of Mikasa - her upper-half up jutting outside the truck, as she used the heavy machine gun to drill bullets at the zombies at an alarmingly fast speed.

They all but nodded at our presence, all of them being too busy for chit-chat. But Jean asked anyway: "Where are the others?"

Sasha replied, "Reiner, Annie and some of the other recruits are in the other truck. A few are still catching up, hopefully."

"And the Commanders?"

Christa was the one to reply: "Commander Shadis d-died. Commander Erwin went onwards, way ahead of us," she paused, reloading her gun, before continuing, "to call HQ-2 for reinforcements before-hand. He said we're near."

"He's left us alone here now? Even Commander Levi?" "Commander Levi's still here, killing half of them for us. Look!"

I turned as well, to look, and saw Commander Levi; he rode on his bike, and held a tall staff in his hand, tipped with long, sharp blades at both ends. Behind him, five zombies tailed, their hands almost about to scrape him off the bike. I almost exclaimed out of fright, but the next second happened so suddenly; the weapon he had held turned in to a blur of deadly steel as he swerved and twisted it, killing any zombie that lay near his radius swiftly. And to my surprise, the other zombies started to cower as they saw his silvery blades blur into a deadly arc with each swing of it. But he didn't stop there - he attacked again.

Watching him fight was amazing - he was never still; he moved here, and then there, till he had killed more zombies than we could count. But as boldly as he fought, he was yet bearing the brunt of most of it; as I squinted, I noticed that his head was bleeding, and his cloak was in literal tatters. But more zombies did not spare him a moment for some breath, for they attacked, and attacked, and attacked.

Moments later Armin came in to the truck. I helped him inside, and then even Ymir stepped in. Her arm was bleeding profusely, and Christa turned pale instantly. Jean silently took the gun from her hands, and allowed her to go help Ymir. He cocked the gun in his hands, and resumed killing any zombie that came near them. I rushed to help Ymir too, but then I heard a loud metallic clang.

Then another, and another, each louder than the last - as if someone were punching a metal wall.

I looked up, and saw the third Commodoties truck; it was half covered with zombies, each creature eager to climb over it with their talon-like hands. To my horror, I saw them ripping away the steel with their bare hands. My eyes blew wide as some even bit in to the hard metal, ripping it apart with each bite. I heard Connie swear, but I only heard it faintly. I stared at the scene in front of me; how-?

Suddenly, smoke started rising from it's hood, the scent of blood and smoke heavy as it wafted till where we sat. More zombies piled on it, each eating and tearing away its metal as if it were paper. The others stopped shooting and attacking, for no zombie was trailing them now; any zombie that was there turned to jump over the truck - blatantly ignoring us. What just...?

Suddenly it tilted, with the force of the zombies. It wheeled on one side, threatening to fall. For a daunting moment, it stood still - till it fell with a deafening boom. My ears hurt from the force, as I covered them. The zombies swarmed over it like bees would. They still scraped and bit and tore at the metal with their own hands and teeth hungrily. Even the zombies after Commander Levi left abruptly, choosing to claw at the truck instead - but why?

Soon, the smoke thickened to a darker grey. The grey smoke turned black, until it shifted in to red-hot flames. The truck had caught fire, the flames licking at everything hungrily, washing everything in a red, fiery blaze. The heat seared even from this distance. And then-

-It exploded.

The fire burst in to huge flames and smoke, reaching higher than the tallest building in Trost. The white-hot sparks that flew were blinding, my eyes burning. The force was much more intense, knocking us backwards. I stumbled, falling back. Bits and pieces of broken, heated metal flew everywhere. One hit me on my cheek, and it seared my skin. I grunted in pain, feeling hot, sticky blood run down my skin. As our truck moved on, the flaming remnants of the Commodoties truck shrunk, until all we could see was a speck of red far, far away.

And what fell afterwards was scarier than the events before:

Silence. Pure silence descended upon us.

No more were there screams of pain, of fear, or the shrieks of insanity or hunger. It was as if everything shut down the instant the truck was destroyed. Eerily, there were no more zombies to be seen; the few that did remain left the corpses and scraps they fed on to fall back, each running away, hiding behind the darkness in hidden alleys. They scuttled and crawled away creepily, like cockroaches, ignoring the corpses that lay tattered all over the road. They hid away so swiftly, it was almost as if...

But I did not think further, for I saw Eren carry Commander Levi on his bike. The Commander was worse than I had thought; not only was his head bleeding, his arms were covered with scrapes and cuts that didn't stop bleeding. His cloak was slick and wet with blood and sweat, and it all but fell away in flimsy pieces.

But the Commander was not as weak as I had anticipated, for he was able to stand up and jump in to the truck all by himself, though he swayed a little as the truck sped on. Eren followed him, jumping straight in to the truck. I saw cuts and blood caked over his skin too, along with splotches of black fluid - more than likely to be zombie-blood. His bike toppled and fell away, getting lost in the dust and smoke that thickened as we went on.

Connie and Eren let Commander Levi lean against the metal-wall. Eren tore a piece of his cloak, and helped Commander Levi tie it against his head, stopping the wound from bleeding too much. He only gritted his teeth in pain, but made no exclamation otherwise. Commander Levi looked across the few recruits in the truck, eyeing them all slowly. His stare landed last on me, after which he asked, "The others...?"

"Reiner and the others are in the other truck..." Sasha replied.

Eren spoke next, "But not all of them lived. I saw Franz... And his- his girlfriend..."

The silence that fell next was suffocating, and tiring. No one said anything else after that; not after the lives that were lost mercilessly today. The exhaustion of the day's events were evident from the soot, grime and blood on everyone's faces, giving away tired lines that made everyone look older. The truck rolled onwards with such a pace that the ruins we had left had all but vanished, hiding behind plumes of dust and smoke - as if nothing ever happened. As if we never witnessed what Hell would look like.

My limbs grew shaky, and I leaned against the metal wall opposite to where Commander Levi sat. I grunted as I leaned heavily, my breathing gone shallow. For a first-timer, this was more than enough. The zombies had not only attacked us in huge masses, but they did so with unnatural abilities - they ran under daylight, they were able to track us much better than they could have, and they were able to rip apart steel. One was even able to talk. It had said:

" _Look out, Human_." No wonder why it had said that, damn it.

I looked outside the truck once more. The sky grew a red so deep and true it almost felt as if the sky were bleeding. The flames we left behind turned in to a darker smoke, rising high up in the sky like black tendrils. It was all I could see; the rest beyond was gone, hidden behind tall, dead buildings surrounded by mist. As the truck rumbled and rattled, I tried to recall Franz. I had heard his name somewhere - oh right, he was one of the guys who escorted me to a caravan to go to the West Wing, the time after I was saved. I hadn't got the time to know him better, but in the training room, I had seen how comfortable he was with many of the recruits; it suggested that he was a good recruit - and a friend to many as well. Though I did not know him, his loss still saddened me.

So many recruits like Franz must have given away their lives; so many brave, unyielding guards must have been killed, and for what? For Humanity's "survival"? For Humanity's "ressurection"? Was this the cost of revivng Humanity? After today's events, after knowing the cost of our mission, the possibility of Humanity ever regaining Trost back seemed grim and dark, nothing but an idea everyone loved to get drunk about. So many people died... What if it were Connie the next day? Or Jean? Or me?

Its not as if I'm not ready to give up my life - I knew that decision had to come upon me one day, as it must have been thought by everyone in that truck. But I'm willing to sacrifice my life, only if it will mean something; if others can hope to see a brighter future at the cost of my life, then I'm willing to give it away. I want to believe in being able to get Trost back. I want to be able to sacrifice my life for a goal - a goal that is sure as the day is long. I want to believe all of that; I want them to be more than tales of bravery and chivallry. But how could I do that, if I'm unsure of what we're fighting against? By the time we do solve that mystery, we'll be picked off like mere animals trapped in a cage - the metal-bars we call the Walls.

In helplessness, I clenched both my hands in to tight fists, my hands shaking. How could we win this way? How could we survive?

The taste of bile and the stinging of tears woke me up from my reverie. I shook my head, pulling up my knees close to my chest, hugging them tight. The sickening scent of corruption that still hung in the stale air around me made my stomach writhe with pain. Along with the scent of blood and sweat that still clung to me, it was all I could do to keep myself from throwing up. But I was so tired. I felt so numb. I pressed my clammy forehead against my knees and sighed shakily.

I felt another presence to my left; I lifted my eyes to see Jean seat himself beside me, his expression as grim as everyone else's. He pulled his mask over his mouth - the same mask with a set of skeleton teeth printed on them, pulled back in a sickly smile. I had forgotten he ever had it...

After a moment's pause, he spoke, his voice muffled from underneath the cloth: "You did good, Marco."

Underneath the dark dread that lurked inside of me a flicker of what seemed like hope had sparked in me - though faintly - by his words. It didn't last long, but I was thankful to have felt it, even if for a little while.

"You did good too, Jean," was all I could say, my voice much quieter than I had expected, mute under the rumbling of the truck over the gravelly, worn out road. I had thought he hadn't heard, but I felt a hand ruffle my hair - it was Jean, who chuckled as I slapped his hand away in annoyance, but I couldn't help laughing a little too. The light gesture certainly helped lighten the mood in the whole truck, as I saw Christa smile a little, her head resting against Ymir's shoulder.

No other dialogue was passed after that.

* * *

 

Time flew by so fast, it was hard to tell that a whole hour had passed - that which had felt like just a few minutes. By the time the truck slowed down, the sky had grown completely dark. Eren stood, inspecting their location. From my view, all I could see were lights from distant buildings that almost blended with the darkness. I could make out a faint outline of a squat, squared building, amidst the darkness. After that, everything seemed to have gone past with the blink of an eye.

I did not take the time to notice the expanse of the garage that we parked in to; I did not take much notice of the nurse who helped me down the truck and inspected me for any fatal wounds; I did not pay much attention to the route through which we recruits were led. In the end, I had finally regained my senses, and found myself in a large, stark white room, with neat and clean hospital beds placed near the walls on either side.

There, we were treated, and all our cuts, burns and wounds were taken care of. My cheek stung as a woman dabbed at it with some ointment, and I bit my tongue, keeping myself from exclaiming, as she cleaned and wrapped it up. Commander Levi was being treated right across from me - he lay on one of the beds, and his head was being bandaged thickly, an attempt to stop the profuse bleeding. Other than that, his shirt was removed to take care of the much darker wounds that covered his shoulders and taut chest. Along wih that, his arms were covered with cuts and burns - some fresh, others slightly faded, belonging to a time of the past.

As the nurses were about to leave, a man entered the room - it was Commander Erwin.

Commander Levi all but fumed at his mere presence. He swiftly sat up, and lifted a bandaged hand, as he started, "Where the fuck-"

"Could we be left alone?" Commander Erwin cut his fellow Commander's speech, as he adressed the nurses. All of them nodded quietly, making their way outside as quickly as they had come in.

As the final nurse left, Commander Levi resumed, fuming even more: "Erwin, you are a Commander of the Survey Corps - and if there's one thing they don't do is fucking leave like that-"

"Levi," Commander Erwin started, lifting a hand, "I can assure you, this was no matter of fleeing in fear. It was a small... test of mine."

Commander Levi's expression curdled in confusion. "Test? Throwing away so many lives was just a fucking test to you?" His sharp, heavy voice cut through the silence after like a knife.

Commander Erwin sighed, as he sat, but his expression did not betray any kind of fear, or remorse, or barely any kind of feeling, in those blue, steely eyes. It made it all even more daunting.

He began, "Levi, now our route to escape and end the zombies is a must, and so we all will have to take much more harder steps to ensure it all. If the lives the people will have to give will make our success possible, then I'm willing to give away more. The difference will be, that they wouldn't have given away their lives in vain, I promise you that."

Commander Levi clenched his jaw, shaking his head. But the way his shoulders slumped a little suggested that he had all but given up on using more energy to retort. He just nodded silently, his eyes hooded. But the reason for this visit had to be more than just idle chit-chat - they didn't even have enough time for that, damn it.

As soon as the Commander had mentioned a test, I could literally feel the anticipation and dread altogether amongst the recruits; Eren had all but stiffened in surprise, while Jean's amber eyes had grown hard beside him, as he rubbed his hands continuosly, like a nervous habit. One thing was certain; as everyone had started staring at Commander Erwin, everyone had bad opinions about his test.

"So what about this test then, Erwin?" Commander Levi asked curtly, folding his arms.

Commander Erwin ran a hand through his hair tiredly. He began: "As I had time to stay here and think over all my thoughts, I'm beginning to understand it all. Last time, we all can recall the huge fire that the zombies had built, all of them hailing and screaming. It had indicated that they must have planned something for us the next time we'd leave - the way they had chanted... It was as if they were celebrating a bigger moment soon, most likely.

"We all are also aware of the rapid repopulation that had taken place almost instantly, yes? What's even more scary, is the fact that the minute me and Commander Levi had planned to leave the West Wing once and for all, every previously empty-place had repopulated almost overnight."

Commander Erwin paused for a moment, licking his lips, before saying, "All the facts were pointing to the suspicion that something would go wrong in our expedition. I had felt it too, but our need to leave the West Wing was quite dire, for if we hadn't left, the zombies would have sooner or later raided us the way they did in HQ-3."

A shadow seemed to have passed over both the Commanders as they mentioned HQ-3. My suspicions were correct - something had happened there, clearly not a good memory. Had the zombies once raided the late-headquarters? I made a mental note to myself, to learn of what had taken place there - it was like an itch I couldn't finish, not until I learned of it.

Commander Erwin asked, "Did any of you people see anything unusual about those zombies...?"

"Other than the fact that they attacked us in broad daylight?" Reiner droned, his voice sarcastically nonchalant.

Commander Erwin nodded, a slight smirk playing around his lips: "Anything."

Mikasa spoke next, "Well, not only did they attack in broad daylight, they could walk on walls."

Eren continued, "And these zombies could even rip away steel - I saw them do that with my own eyes."

"One had even talked." I didn't even register the fact that I had spoken next.

Everyone's eyes snapped at me. Connie's eyes bluged out of his sockets, while Armin's mouth hung in shock. Even Commander Levi stared at me uncertainly, certainly shocked of the words that left my lips: that zombies had talked. And they had.

"Yeah, one did," Jean said, backing me up, "I heard it myself. It was after it spoke, that hundreds of zombies chased us."

"What did it say?" Commander Levi asked.

"It- it said... Ah..." Jean held his bandaged head, trying to remember the words the zombie had uttered-

"It said, ' _Look out, Human'_."

I found myself replying for Jean. As the words left my lips, the zombie that had uttered it entered my mind, its gravely, horrid voice resonating through my mind even now, like nails across steel.

A silence so thick fell on us after that. Christa gasped slightly, and even Annie cared to share a shocked expression, her dishevelled blonde hair framing her pale face.

"Are you sure-" Commander Levi began, but I cut him:

"I am, sir. Why would I lie about this?" I said, my voice cracking slightly in the end.

Commander Erwin rubbed his face, his steely gaze not even wavering once. "This rate of evolutionary change is alarming. It's too fast..." He whispered to himself.

"One other thing happened too," Commander Levi began. "When the third truck had come near us, every zombie that was near us ran after it, completely ignoring us humans. They never did that before..." he trailed, as he rubbed at his chin thoughtfully.

On the contrary, Commander Erwin's eyes glittered; he must be thinking of something. No, wait... He must have finally deduced something, most definitely something important.

"It all makes sense," was all he whispered. "What? Is it part of your test?"

Commander Levi asked.

"Oh, yes, Levi, yes, yes." He replied. He began, "It all makes sense, Levi! It shows that its all coordinated-"

"Wait, wait. You're meaning to say that these zombies planned it? That they knew of our moves?"

"Yes, Levi, yes. There can be no other reason."

Connie shook his head, "But Commander, it would make sense if they had killed us there and then. They only bothered to attack one truck; the one filled with our ammunition..."

Connie stopped himself short the minute it left his mouth; the zombies had not attacked all the trucks. They had attacked only one - the one with ammunition. The one with the strength we heavily relied on.

My breath left me as my mind ran over these buzzing thoughts. Could this mean-

"This means," Commander Erwin began, now pacing the length of the room as he said, "that these zombies were made to weaken us, by aiming to destroy our strength. Somebody must have instructed and coordinated them all. Somebody had pinpointed our location, and had planned all this-"

"Meaning," Commander Levi sighed, "we've got many more enemies that we're dealing with."

An invisible weight fell over the room, everyone silent and grudgingly taking the news in. Armin's theory was right; all this evolutionary change was in fact coordinated by someone - someone who conducted it all, found out about our plans, and eventually plotted to weaken us slowly, trying to end us. It was indeed some stranger that led it all, and the realization had weakened me even more. Dread filled me up to the core, sinking in to my bones heavily, as I realised that we don't have only one enemy that we were dealing with.

"Recruits," Commander Erwin spoke, "you all fought bravely today; I expected nothing less out of you people. And don't think the recruits that didn't make it died for nothing. You all are dismissed as for now."

With that, those who were not wounded too much left, leaving behind Commander Levi. Commander Erwin lingered there for a while as well. As the other recruits made their way out, one of the nurses came and stopped in front of them, motioning them to their dorms. Tiredly, we were led through hallways that were dimly lit. It was way past midnight. There was not much light in the building to begin with, so there was seldom I could see; all the walls were dark, having no other light source, except for white ceiling lights that lit the hallways sparsely. I was too tired to care.

Before Reiner's hands touched the door knob, we heard Armin speak, his voice a faint whisper: "Commander Erwin forgot one thing."

We all turned around to look at him. He wasn't even staring at us; his big, blue eyes - once hopeful, now glazed with hoplessness - stared off in to space. He could have been in deep thought, but the words he spoke were enough to knock us towards his attention.

"What do you mean, Armin?" I asked gingerly.

Once again, he did not care to lift his eyes. He still looked, but didn't see. But his mouth moved on its own accord, it seemed: "No one's communication systems were working, right?"

We looked at each other, and eerily, everyone's eyes blew wide as they realised; no one's communication systems worked. I glanced at Jean, who glanced back at me. He looked worriedly as well - did everyone's communications stop working, together?

"This means they know of the systems that our vehicles are based on. They know how our bikes work. And how they were so accurate of our position, its scary..." The next words he spoke were a faint, faint whisper:

"It's highly likely that this _somebody_ is leaking Survey Corps' information from within us."

Well, we can call that a fucking _bomb-dropper_.

Without another word, we opened the door to our dormitory; it was a slightly larger room, with atleast 12 two-storey bunkbeds, evenly divided against the walls to my left and right. Most of the recruits fell face-first over the clean sheets at the lower storey, and fell asleep almost instantly, not even giving a slight care to take their shoes off (Sasha being one of those). The others did take care, though, and carefully climbed over the top-bunk, and passed out. I found Jean being one of the more careless ones - not even caring to toe his shoes off, he landed right at the first bed he could see, and passed out as soon as he landed there. I could only roll my eyes.

I saw Eren guide Armin towards a bed farther away from the others, an arm slung protectively around the blonde's wiry frame. I found myself staring at them for a little while, a little smile tugging at my lips.

I sat at the edge of the first vacant bed, bordering the wall to my right. I took off my shoes, and shrugged my shirt off. It was slick with sweat - and possibly blood - and the thought itself was revolting. I flung the shirt away from me. I leaned back, enjoying the cool, clean sheets beneath my bare skin. I closed my eyes, sighing peacefully.

But sleep did not come to me.

I closed my eyes tighter, I rubbed at them till I saw stars, I shifted to my sides, and even then, I was restless. I could not sleep. Whenever I closed my eyes, I'd see the undead creatures chasing me, hungry for my flesh. Whenever I tried to clear my mind, the events of the day threatened to replay over and over in my mind - the zombies, with their shrieks and wails, the recruits they killed ruthlessly, their dead eyes gone glassy, their blood-

Too restless to stay awake in my bed, I sat up slowly. The clock on the wall struck 3 AM. The others were sound asleep - most of them snoring softly as they dreamt. As my eyes trailed to my right, they landed on a glass wall - no, it was a glass door.

Quietly, I stood, gingerly walking towards the door. I placed my hand against the glass, cold against my palm. I dragged it to the left, and just as easily, it opened. The cold night air rushed inside, running over me. I breathed it in, the wind enveloping me peacefully. It opened to a narrow gallery, with metal-grills in front - enough for a person to sit in comfortably.

Closing the door behind me, I sat down, folding my legs beneath me. Above me, a few stars twinkled brightly against the black night, the rest of the sky shrouded with dark clouds that looked a little too much like smoke - smoke from the fires we left behind. Though the fact made me shiver, the presence of the few stars that did glow somehow gave me peace. I breathed in the cool air once more, letting it fill me, letting it dissolve my worries, letting it wipe my pain away...

"This is sort of nostalgic, hm?"

I turned around, to find Jean holding the door open. He wore nothing but a black, sleeveless undershirt, and shorts below. His head was still bandaged, hiding most of his brassy hair. He looked down at me, his amber eyes glinting even in the dark.

I laughed a little, before saying, softly, "Yeah, I just wanted to-"

"To clear your head?" Jean cut me off, smiling softly. He closed the door behind him, and manuevered himself to my left. He also folded his feet under him, mirroring me.

I shook my head, saying, "You can't blame me, can you?"

"Nope, I guess not."

With that, he fell silent too. We enjoyed the silence that ensued together, not wanting to break it, not wanting to end it. Sometimes, moments like these were more important - where two people enjoy the silence; not every kind of silence should be labelled as sad, and not every kind of silence is meant to be a moment of dread. Silence can be comforting too, like the one I was sharing with Jean.

I guess it depends on the kind of company you keep too.

Jean sighed, as he whispered, "I'm gonna miss Franz."

I snapped my head to him, eyeing at him.

He hugged his knees close to his chest, resting his chin on top. He then continued, "Not that we shared some special empathy link, but its just that- that he was in the Corps as long as I can remember. He even asked me tips to get his girl, too-" he laughed a little, and I found myself smiling. He paused, licking his lips, before saying, "So yeah, I'm- I'm gonna miss him."

I looked up at the stars again, and sighed. I tried recalling his face more clearly, but I failed. Like before, his absence still made my heart sink - even though I had never formally met him.

"Its unfair, isn't it?" I found myself asking. I didn't wait for Jean to answer. I continued, "People like Franz dying, good people losing... While the zombies - those monsters live; those monsters get to win. If that's how its gonna be, then I can't continue- Its just-" I stopped myself short, shaking my head, as I felt tears sting my eyes. Suddenly I felt pathetic, like a child complaining about the cruel ways of the world. I turned away from Jean's burning gaze; acting like that in front of a seasoned recruit only made me feel more embarrassed.

I heard Jean sigh softly, before he spoke, his voice soft, almost a whisper: "Yeah, it is." He continued, "It is unfair. I've seen braver recruits die right in front of me, I've seen those fuckers eat my friends right in front of my eyes. When I was younger, I'd hate to see a recruit - a friend - die almost every other day, and it hurt. It even hurts now." He paused for a moment. Right then, only our soft breaths could be heard; even the wind had grown silent, flowing over us in steady gusts. Even in the dark, Jean's eyes glinted sharply - like a light he held of his own within those orbs. His head hung, as he gazed at his hands - but he wasn't looking; it felt as if he were lost in a fragment of the past, as if he were recalling a sweetly bitter memory.

Then he tipped his head back, and inhaled the night air, his eyes still closed. I still stared at him, looking at how the worry-lines he held in missions melted away with just one deep, calming breath; the way he regained and held his composure at all times was what amazed me about him.

He finally opened his eyes, staring up at the sparsely scattered stars, as he began, "But it just makes me want to fight harder, y'know? We lost a battle, not the war." He completed his sentence while staring at me, golden eyes broing in to brown ones. I found myself fixed in to those warm pools of color.

He continued, "Yeah, Marco. it is unfair, and its cruel. But the people that I lost along the way - their memory gives me strength. Their memory makes me want to make their loss mean something. It makes me want to keep surviving, and it makes me want to avenge their deaths by ending those zombies."

He stretched a hand, placing it on my left shoulder. He gripped it with his fingers, as he said, "Franz left us, but he hasn't left us for nothing, yeah? You'll make his death mean something - _we_ will make it matter for them; we will finish those zombies, 'cause no one is allowed to die in vain, you hear me?"

The way he said ' _we_ ' made my heart stutter; his promising tone demanded that I - _we_ \- would end those zombies for the ones we lost, together. The prospect of together made my heart fill with emotion; for a man who had kept himself safe by running alone for more than a year, these words were more than comforting. It made me feel safe; as if I were home.

But Jean had yet to speak. He leaned in close, until all I could see were his eyes - they were flecked with gold around his pupils, along with green splotches, I could see. His warm, ragged breathing - smelling faintly of cigarettes - fanned across my face, as he said:

"But you have to promise me that you'll continue. You'll have to promise me that you'll survive - for them, yeah?"

I was at a loss of words; he _knew_ \- he knew that the prospect of giving up had crossed my mind more than once, he knew. And it was why he was making me promise to keep on surviving; as if my life actually mattered, as if my loss would affect him in some way or the other.

My tears subsided as I let his words sink in; no one was allowed to die in vain, after all. They all had died for something - what it was, sadly no one was sure enough. But the living should not let the dead fade away; the living can keep their memory with them. Jean made me believe that their memory will be the fuel that will light out fires, burning bright within us, as we drive ourselves to anihilate the zombies; for the ones we lost. For them.

I nodded, as I gazed in to his eyes with equal determination; with that, I sealed the promise silently, just with the passing of a gaze between us. And strangely, even he understood, as he lifted his hand from my shoulder. My skin burned where he touched it. Were my cheeks burning too? I couldn't tell.

I recalled the way Franz had used his strength to keep me upright, while leading me down a flight of stairs, what felt like ages ago. Now, I'd do the same; now I'll be the one to carry his memory with my strength, and use it to help me achive our goal - to revive Trost;

To survive.

I licked my lips anxiously, as I rolled the words over and over in my brain before letting them loose: "Jean, could I ask how you came here...?"

As friendly and comfortable Jean had been at that moment, it all vanished as I saw a slight hesitance in him as soon as I asked that question; and I instantly regretted the words that left my lips. God, it must have hit a sore-spot, that much was clearly evident by the deep lines that formed above his brow. For a second, he lost his focus, and saw, but didn't look; had he gone in the past once more? Had my words triggered something bad? That made me regret my decision even more-

But the hesitance left as soon as it came. Jean shook his head, as he said, "Um, I... I'd like to answer that question, but... But not now, I'm sorry."

Though he looked apologeticaly from under his lashes, there was still a bit of hesitance frozen within his bones, within his demeanor, as if he were resigned; like a self-defense mechanism, to protect himself. But from what?

I apologized profusely, not wanting to ruin the moment, or wanting to make him anxious in any way, but Jean waved them all away, accepting my apology as it is. I hugged my knees to my chest too, this time mirroring Jean.

I looked up at the sky once more, enjoying the fresh, steady gusts of wind. My skin grew cold, and yet I relished it.

"You're really generous for someone as cowardly as me..." I whispered, not actually saying it to anyone.

But the silence had carried it to Jean, who snapped his eyes at me a bit forcefully. He scoffed, as he said, "Are you fucking kidding me? You're saying that after the wicked stunt you pulled at the gas station? God, Marco, cut yourself some slack; if anything, you _saved_ us. So I should be the one thanking you. Its the least I could do."

I wanted to retort, but then I remembered having pulled that risky stunt, after all; it had even worked, as it helped to kill the zombies that persisted on chasing us in to oblivion _. I had completely_ _forgotten about it_ , I thought sheepishly, as I ran a hand down the back of my neck. I did save Jean, after all.

So, for once, I let myself enjoy the sliver of glory I tasted; it helped relieve me of the brooding aura I couldn't help but show.

"Which reminds me..." I heard Jean mutter, but before I could so much as ask him, I suddenly felt a weight crash in to the left side of my jaw, jarring my senses for a painful moment.

I yelped in surprise, cradling my jaw in my hands as tears of pain prickled my eyes. I stretched my jaw a little - God, it fucking _stung_.

"What the fuck was that for, Jean?"

"You promised me to punch you if the plan worked, remember?"

I stared at him, one eye-brow raised, completely incredulous to his reasoning. He even _remembered_ , for fuck's sake. I just stared at him, and he stared at me - until we both lost our composure, and started laughing, our guffaws echoing in to the night. I punched him in the shoulder too, for hitting me that hard. Jean just bore it, losing himself in more fits of giggles, making me reduced to laughs and gasps along with him.

In those few hours - or was it minutes? I could not tell - my soul, that had been heavy with grief and terror had all vanished. I felt myself feel lighter with each breath I took, with each word passed with Jean by my side in the dark privacy of the night, under the clouds and stars. The dread that had swirled in me grew thin with Jean - it helped light a flicker of hope inside of me, that ate away the darkness swiftly. That mere spark gave me the will the laugh with Jean despite the pending doom on them; it gave me the will to exist right there - it gave me the will to survive.

Sleep came easily to me when I laid on my bed again, but the nightmares did not. They plagued my mind with horrors of pain, of fear, of blood - and of _death_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooOOOOH well what a twist of events, hm? *slithers back in to darkness* If you wanna share - or show - anything to me regarding this, tag it with "fic: the silent ones" on tumblr; i'll be tracking it!  
> Reviews are much appreciated; they help a lot! Until next time! ♥


	6. Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did everything end up like... this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there are mentions of panic-attacks, and panicked thoughts, with mentions of elaborately described night terrors. (that get a little gorey). And there are depressive themes as well - so read with care! <3
> 
> But there's fluff too, so enjoy c:

**_Terror_ **

 

_Screams; loud, fearful screams - they echoed into the void where I existed… loud, booming resonances, and yet diminishing._

_Cackles; amidst screams of the living, I could hear the dead cackling, laughing - enjoying their hobby of killing the innocent, their sickly grins glinting under the thick darkness._

_Pain; red-hot, blinding pain, striking my being as deadly nails ripped me apart, tearing away my sanity slowly, so, so slowly. Someone help, someone,_ someone _-_

_One dark talon emerged from within the curtain of emptiness, its sharp edge gleaming with evil intent. It crept closer, stopping just as it hovered right over my left eye._

_With one sick, gut-wrenching_ giggle _, the dead stabbed my eye, and I_ screamed _._

With a start, I sat up. The veil of darkness gave way to faint morning light - and then I noticed: I was back in the dorms of HQ-2.

Panic still coursing through my veins, and my heart caught up in my throat, I blinked back tears. I rubbed my forehead, sticky with sweat. _Just another nightmare._

The pain - the _searing_ pain - it felt so real, I could still feel it pulsing behind my eyelid. I lied down again, rubbing my eyes to finish that weird sensation. I massaged my temples, as the beginnings of a splitting headache threatened to burst within my skull.

 _Just another nightmare, Marco,_ I reassured myself.

Yes indeed, it was just another nightmare; another nightmare, where I had to be consumed by utter darkness, not being able to see anything at all; another nightmare, where I had to hear screams and shrieks of pain, surrounding me so thickly, I could have seen them, _felt_ them – but I _couldn’t_. It was another nightmare, where the zombies destroyed every innocent soul surrounding me, enjoying the feat - _laughing_ while they did it. The image still made me grit my teeth in anger.

It got worse when those zombies tortured _me_ ; in those nightmares, I'd lay helpless, as those monsters raised their sharp nails, and dragged them across my skin hard, yet slowly - enough to make me scream, shout, cry in agony. The whole process was so slow and painful - it hurt just to think about it. It felt as if I were being torn to shreds - and maybe I was; it would be too dark to tell. The surge of terror I'd feel in those nightmares was dreadful - like a brutal stab to my heart. Even if I closed my eyes, I could see them: those dark creatures with their pungent stink of rotten flesh, licking their slimy lips maliciously with blackened tongues. When they'd stare at me, they'd _laugh_ \- a laugh that made my eyes prickle with tears - and as they laughed, they'd pick their sharp talon, and then-

I shivered at the thought after. I could feel my breath coming out in short pants. _Take it easy, Marco. Take it easy._ I inhaled, and exhaled, slowly and steadily. _Breathe, it'll be okay soon._

I told myself that all the time, whenever I'd wake up with my heart racing, and with a sweat bordering my brow. But as those words repeated in my mind over and over, playing like a tape-recorder, I could not help but think:

Would it get better? How did it even get this bad? How? How did everything end up like... like _this?_

Nevertheless, those words soon calmed my panicked mind; as much as the prospect of a peaceful night's rest seemed really, _really_ far away, it did not fail to calm my jittery nerves into a tender sense of quiet, even if for a little while. I chose to hold onto those silent moments, where a sense of tranquility laid over me - where, for a brief moment in time, I could cover all the scars those wretched zombies had marked me with within my dreams, and instead, I could _breathe_. I sought for such moments, where I could feel safe for once.

 _Its okay,_ I thought, as I traced the words inked into my skin, just below my collarbone. Let those words _mean_ something...

Once I felt somehow normal, I sighed tiredly, staring at the ceiling - well, the ceiling of the top bunk over me, which is.

It had been almost a week since we had arrived here, in HQ-2. The day after we arrived, we were made to introduce ourselves to the Commanding Officer of HQ-2, Mike Zacharius.

He was a tall, obedient man, with an unusually calm face. He wore the same attire that all other Commanders wore; same black clothes underneath, and a black coat over it, with the proud emblem of the Survey Corps sewn on the breast-pocket. He had stood as straight as an arrow, towering over us when we had filed into our positions. We greeted him with gusto, our right fists over our hearts.  
He had nodded proudly at that. He had started pacing the length of the room, just parallel to us. With his eyes trained forward, he spoke up with a deep-set voice:

"Good morning, fellow cadets. I am the Commanding Officer of HQ-2, Officer Mike Zacharius - or you may call me Officer Mike," he had said, with a lilt of an English accent. Then he paused, stopping just in front of Reiner, and _inhaled_ the air around him - as if he were sniffing out his fucking _intentions_. Though Reiner was a man steadfast in nature, he could not help but lean away in disgust. (Connie had had trouble stifling his laughter at that - as did many others).

Without any kind of reaction - other than a sniff - Officer Mike simply walked on, his hands wrapped behind his back. Flicking his blonde hair out of his eyes, he stopped in the center of the Main Area.  
"We were informed of your arrival a long while ago, and yet, I can't help but feel surprised," he said, "After hearing what you people had to go through, I must say, I am certainly amazed. To see you all this firm, even after being chased by those zombies..." At that, he had chuckled, shaking his head in amazement.

"You people should be proud of yourselves. I have high hopes for you. So please, do feel at home here," he had ended, with a warm smile.

After that, all of us were made to have a week's rest, on Officer Mike's insistence. And so, most of my comrades had rested really, really well; many of them, like Ymir, chose to sleep through two fucking days, catching up on their much needed rest. Everyone found it comforting, enjoying their days of peace, relishing it while it lasted. But for me, it fucking _sucked_ \- it was only after coming here, that I started experiencing those torturous dreams, with those monsters, and the screams, and the _pain_ -

 _Don't do this to yourself_ , I told myself. _Please_.

I bit back tears of hopelessness welling in my eyes, and tried thinking of something else.  
Well, the next morning, we would restart our training; _that_ had to be good. I allowed myself to crack a nervous smile; while training, while putting my body and my mind into some good use, I was at my fucking best. I'd relish every move and every block I'd make - even every punch I'd take - just enjoying the fact that it just might make me stronger. The tense muscles, the sweat of effort trickling down my face, and the energy crackling through my limbs, lighting me up - it all felt fucking _exhilarating._

 _Was this how Jean felt, whenever he fought?_ I suddenly thought.

I blinked at that. I turned my head to my right, and glanced at the bed next to me. To my surprise, it actually was Jean. _Hm, he must have sneaked in late at night_ , I thought.

He had been almost non-existent in the week we had rested, and for some reason, it bothered me. I remembered asking Armin once, over breakfast:

"Oh, that?" He had waved a careless hand in the air, when he explained, "He always does that after a mission. He actually goes to Petra."

"For?" I had asked, almost eagerly.

Armin had shrugged, biting through his toast. "I don't really know. It's not my... my _place_ , y'know? All I know is that he's always been close to Petra ever since he came here - almost like a mother, she is. So, I don't know, he must be seeking advice, or help from Petra."

As I recalled that conversation, I found myself thinking: what help would he want? He seemed so firm, so brave, all on his own... Did he need help too? Did he have moments where he'd feel vulnerable, alone, and weak? Did he have thoughts and demons of his own, that festered within his mind?

Without even noticing it, I began staring at Jean. He was curled into a ball, the sheets tangled round his being tightly. My eyes then strayed over his face; he had abandoned the bandage around his head after the fifth day, so I could see his brassy hair, splaying across his pillow haphazardly. His mouth was slightly open, and he snored softly. Then, I noticed how... _peaceful_ he looked; while he slept, no longer did he have his signature-smirk, or his permanent scowl, with his eyebrows drawn right at the center of his forehead, with lines etching his face that made him look older than he actually was. In his sleep, he had none of those, but something else, instead.  
Suddenly, he mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, shuffling a little. With a little squirm, he sighed through his nose, and lay still again, calm and peaceful. I dared to think one thing: he looked fucking _cute_. But those thoughts vanished from my mind, when I saw his lips twitch a little... until he was smiling. It wasn't even a smile; it was just a slight upturn of one of the corners of his mouth, and yet... Yet, I could not stop staring at it. _He has never smiled like that before..._

I lied on my right side, just resting my eyes upon his face. The faint morning light grew more intense, until beams of brightness fell on Jean's sleeping figure. His hair lit up like a golden halo, and for a moment, the light caressed his skin, sinking into the ridges of his cheekbones and jaw line - until he _glowed_.

As fucking weird as it seemed, I kept on marveling at the magnificence of that moment. It certainly helped banish any toxic thought that would try to barge inside my mind - I was too distracted to even care. There was a certain peace radiating through his stillness, something that I had been trying so hard to find for a week - but something I found so easily, just by looking at Jean _sleeping_.  
Soon my eyelids started drooping. After a nightmare, I'd never be able to sleep back again, but somehow, his calmness made me yawn. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as I thought. After one last stare at Jean's sleeping state, I gave in to the folds of slumber.

This time, I didn't feel any pain in my dream - though I could hear the shouts of humanity around me, in _agony_.

 

* * *

 

The next time I woke, was not to silence, but to a cloth slammed right at my face.

I gasped, garbling out some nonsense in sluggish sleep. I sat up, peeling my eyes open. Even _then_ I could not fucking see anything - it was then that I wrenched the godforsaken fabric over my face. Just beside me, I saw Jean... _hopping_ on one foot, struggling to pull on a boot on the other. _What the fuck-_

"Jean...?" I croaked.

It was then that his eyes caught my gaze. His face was twisted in a worrisome expression, as he said, "About fucking time you woke up. Get ready, man, we're late!" He then stumbled a little, grabbing his coat as soon as he was done with his boots.

" _Late_?" I echoed, scratching my head. "Late for wha-"

My eyes blew wide in surprise, when I noticed: all the beds around us were empty.

 _Shit_.

In no time, I grabbed the nearest shirt I could find, and wore it. Thankfully I hadn't taken off my jeans, so after struggling to find my shoes, Jean and I _bolted_.

We ran down the hallway, leading to our training room. Jean just couldn't stop cursing our luck, and if we were in a different situation, I could have laughed. But there was no time - we _were running late for training._

We finally spied the large oak doors from afar. As we did, we ran a little faster, the slaps of our boots against marble tiles echoing across the vacant alley. As we stopped at the door, Jean wasted no time - he grabbed the knob and wrenched it open. I braced myself for anything, maybe some laughing recruits, or an _angry_ Officer-

Thankfully, the first thing we saw were the beginnings of the recruits' formation to greet our Officer – he couldn't have seen us from here.

Quickly, Jean and I ran up to the back of the group, blending in with the other recruits. My heart sunk when I noticed that there weren't as many recruits as there were last time - after that dreaded mission...  
I gulped dryly. I looked to my side, to see Jean cracking a humorous grin at me, his eyes bright with mirth.

"Let's... Let’s not do that again, yeah?" he panted. I just laughed, nodding in response. _Yeah, definitely._

It hadn't been a moment longer, that the Officer of HQ-2 stomped his feet. The recruits filed themselves almost immediately. Blending in again, we greeted our Officer. After folding his hands across his chest in approval in front of him, he stood upon the platform in front of us, and looked at each of us one by one - boring his dark eyes a little too insistently in mine. I avoided his gaze as best as I could.

He spoke, "Good morning, cadets. By this day, you all shall start working on exercising yourselves after a week long rest. You won't do hand-to-hand combat straight away - today you'll focus on warming up yourselves, so you'll work on the punching bags at the edge of this room.  Do try not to overwork yourselves; we don't need any more casualties than we can handle.

"And on another note, the Commanders have been eager to inform you all of something;" he continued, "Commanders Erwin and Levi will be leaving HQ-2 for another mission, after one week."

All at once, anxious whispers erupted within the room, passing on from one cadet to the other, every one of us suddenly afraid. Though I chose not to speak a word, I overheard many: a girl a few paces ahead of me whispered to her friend, _'right after being chased by zombies themselves?’_ to which her friend replied, _'I can't even stand the look of them!'_. From other places, I heard them calling the commanders _'crazy'_ , among hushed breaths of _'this is insane!'_  . In no time all I could hear were voices lined with anxiousness that started to catch up to me. My heart steadily started beating a little faster, my breath growing a little shorter - it was all I could do before I'd fucking lose it. I bit my lip, trying to keep myself steady. I clenched my fists tightly, till I could feel my nails biting my skin. _Another mission...?_

" _Silence, cadets!_ " boomed Officer Mike's voice. As if someone had blown a breath of air over us, the whispers were snuffed out.

He explained, "These matters are for the Commanders to decide on their own, so you all should not concern yourselves with the consequences - but should rather believe that they'll come out fine." He eyed each of us again, as he spoke, "This mission is purely for surveying purposes, and nothing more. With a band of well-chosen, senior recruits – none of them from you all - they will only survey the areas surrounding HQ-2 to check out for any... _abnormalities_." That word stung a little too much for my liking.

"And so, cadets, you mustn't worry. Train hard today; season yourselves well enough to last longer out there. Got it?" With a shout of acceptance, Officer Mike waved a hand, and dismissed us. And so, we trained.

It was almost like the training room we had in the Western Wing, though this one had white walls gone dirty with age - I could even see the paint peeling off of the walls at some places. Nevertheless, each of us made our way towards the punching bags. I picked one, turning it around. It was then that I noticed how _worn out_ it was; the leather had thinned and grayed over with age, and the stuffing was spilling out of most places.

"Why are these so..." I started.

" _Out-dated?_ " Reiner cut in. He only shrugged, throwing an acidic glare at the Officer from beside me, as he grumbled, "Beats me. For all we know that Officer just likes musty smells..."

"It could be something else."

I looked to my right, and saw Annie, of all people, addressing me. Her cold stare was trained at the punching bag in front of her, but even then I could feel the steeliness she carried; in a way, I envied that quality in her.

"Something else...?" I asked.

She silently picked the stuffing out of one of them, rolling it into a ball in between her fingers. With just a light squeeze, it turned to dust, falling apart in her palm. She sniffed at that, asking, "It's weird that the Western Wing has better equipment than this place, hm?"

I was still confused. But before I could ask, she continued:

"Look around you, Marco. You've seen it too, haven't you? - how worn out this place is... You’d be blind if you didn’t notice the huge difference."

And she was right; the walls, the hallways, and now this equipment... The difference was there, pointing towards…

I shook my head. "This... This could be the Officer's mistake. I mean, maybe he forgot to update everything, or-"

" _Or,_ maybe the Higher Ups forgot?" she cut in, boring her icy gaze in me. I could not keep myself from quivering; that look made my skin crawl.

"H-higher Ups...?"

"The people running this - the Survey Corps, that is."

"But how could the ones _running_ the Corps forget updating it?"

She simply shrugged, picking at the stuffing again. "Hm, you've got a point there."

Deeming it the end of our conversation, I turned around, making my way towards the rings where we'd hang our bags. But I heard Annie speak again:

"That leaves us with one last assumption..."

At that, I froze – suddenly growing scared of her next response.

"Maybe they _purposefully_ forgot...?"

I turned around again, looking at her, but she was still picking at the spilled stuffing, her back to me. _What did she just say...?_

"Maybe," she said, "they don't want to update HQ-2 - or any place - anymore. Maybe they don't want to run the Corps anymore."

I can't help myself; my jaw fell open in utter surprise. Those words that Annie said were nothing but an assumption, and yet...

"W-why would the Higher Ups want the Corps to _shut down_?" I asked.

Annie simply shrugged. "Who knows what happens inside the Corps? Maybe the Survey Corps isn't so pure as we might have hoped."

I couldn't take it anymore; without another word, I turned around, walking towards the rings quickly, trying to run away from this cold feeling, this dread that Annie just spilled over me. _It's just an assumption, she just assumed it,_ I told myself. And yet... yet, why did those words hang so heavily around me? Why did it suffocate me, even if for a tiny moment?

But then, as soon as I looked ahead, all those anxious thoughts seamlessly left my mind. Just where the rings hung from the high ceiling, I saw Jean - already busying himself with his task, practicing his moves on his punching bag. He was always the first one to start away; many of the recruits slacked off, and chatted idly as they picked their punching bags slowly - but not Jean. Even now, he was punching away at the leather sack as if he were doing it all his life. The slaps and smacks of skin against leather echoed within the room, carrying this buzzing energy, making me want to jump on the balls of my feet. It was that blazing fire, with which he burned; I could even feel the heat, just radiating off of him.  I felt my skin get tingly with pent-up energy, and in no time I wanted to fight again - just like him.

Without wasting any more time, I ran up to the rings, and hung my sack with ease, next to him. I cracked my knuckles, and spared a glance at Jean. I wasn't surprised; he didn't look back. He was too busy hitting and defending the bag in front of him, lost in his own world.

Clenching my fists, I pull them up in front of my face. Steadying myself, I swung my fist, and punched away.

 

*

 

It was after two hours of continuous training, that we were allowed a lunch break. By that time, my stomach was growling like some angry beast; I needed to fucking _eat._

Jean must have been feeling the same, for he held his stomach in his hands when he came out of the training room, his face suddenly paler than before.

" _I. Need. Food._ " he rasped, dragging his feet with each syllable.

"Y'should have woken up early, like us," Eren chided, folding his arms across his chest defiantly.

" _Or_ ," Connie piped in, "were you two a bit... _busy_ together, hm?" Sasha waggled her eyebrows rather suggestively at that.

"Wh-what the-" I stuttered.

" _What the hell, Connie, it wasn't anything like that!_ " rambled Jean, burning a deep red, out of shame. I could feel myself burning up too, and I hid my face in my hands before they noticed. Connie started laughing when we started blushing like maidens-

-until I smelled something.

"Is that-" I started.

" _Food!_ " ended Jean, already bounding for the cafeteria. I did not waste any moment, and bounded after him - or rather, after a hot bowl of food for my stomach.

We were the first ones there. As we were served our helping of steaming carrot stew with a chunk of burnt bread, all my aches, bruises and fatigue were long forgotten.  
Jean, on the other hand, was inhaling his food. When I had finished half of my bowl, he had called for another helping, and dug in faster than before. In no time, was my stomach finally filled with good, good food. As I swallowed the last bit of bread, drenched in a thick stew, I sighed, patting my stomach.

"Wow, man," said Connie, "you guys almost beat Sasha's record of eating the fastest."

" _Nuh-uh!_ " urged Sasha, "Nobody's ever gonna beat eating five helpings of boiled potatoes in seven minutes - I can guarantee you guys!"

We laughed together, enjoying a good rest after some effort. It was then that I felt the sting of my skin, where the leather had scratched past. I rubbed my knuckles, and looked over to where Jean sat, next to me. He was patting his stomach happily too – suddenly _burping_.  Just then, he looked at me. For a moment, our eyes locked; we didn't speak - we just stared, with soft smiles.

And then we started laughing; laughing at the way we decided to show up to training, laughing because maybe the Officer had noticed us coming later, laughing because we felt good enough to. For that little while, when chuckles escaped me as easily as panicked gasps would, I easily forgot everything and anything that troubled me. It felt... _good._

 

Right after our lunch break, we were called back to restart training. And so, for another three hours, we continued punching and smacking and dodging our makeshift opponents, to get back on our game. After that, however, we were made to stop.

"I think this much of work is enough for your first day. Good job, cadets! We'll work a little harder tomorrow. You may take the rest of the day off; dismissed!"

The sky had started darkening as we filed outside the training room, everyone stretched themselves, already feeling fatigue settling over their bodies heavily. I agreed too; my bones hurt with each little nudge or stretch I did. As much as it sucked, I didn't entirely hate it; it definitely helped keeping every poisonous thought and demon at bay.

Most of the cadets, including me, turned to their left for the cafeteria, to get some refreshments. But one recruit didn't; one recruit went the opposite way. When I looked back, that recruit was Jean. Why was he going there...?

I didn't even realize I was walking towards him until I called out:

"Hey, Jean!"

At that, he turned around. His eyes blew wide owlishly when he saw me, stopping in his tracks.

"Where are you going? Everyone else is going to the cafeteria..." I said, motioning behind me.

He blinked twice, his amber eyes glinting with mild confusion. But then he shook his head, laughing a little, as he said:

"Oh, no, no, I uh... I have to go see Petra for a moment..." He had turned around again, walking ahead before I could even reply.

"Could I come with-?"

"No, no! You don't have to! Go with the other guys!" he called out, waving a hand to dismiss me. He started walking a little faster, until his figure started growing smaller.

I sighed in defeat. But I was not going to give up that easily. I jogged down the hallway, walking beside him.

As soon as he noticed that, he asked, "And where're you heading?"

"I'm coming with you."

He stopped. "Marco, you don't have to-"

"But I want to - I won't necessarily sit with you; I'll just- escort you," I countered, stopping with him.

He stared at me, and I held his stare strongly. The look he gave me was conflicting; he was angry, upset, yet confused. But then after another moment, he sighed in defeat, rubbing a hand over his forehead.

Throwing his hands in the air in exasperation, he said, " _Fine_ , fine! You can - you can come along." I nodded, truly relieved with this decision.

We had resumed walking for only a few minutes, when I heard him mumble:

"I won’t be too _entertaining_ , though."

That bugged me; why wouldn’t he be entertaining? Why would he be worried about it, anyway? It was so unlike the Jean Kirschtein I had come to know and befriend; this Jean wasn't the rowdy Jean who won his battles wherever he fought them. This one was too quiet - too small - to be him...  
Or maybe it was another _facet_ of him. Maybe it was an aspect of him that I hadn't come to learn of, or understand; a side of his he didn't want to show others - a silent side that everyone had. After all, it hadn't even been a full month yet, since I arrived in the Survey Corps - since I met him. There was so much I didn’t know about him – his likes, dislikes, his strengths, his weaknesses, his _past…_

As our footsteps slapped across marbled tiles, I spared a glance at Jean; he looked nowhere but forward. The pale white lights lit up his crisp leather jacket, hanging around his frame stiffly. With the black collars brushing his chin, he walked the way he always did; chin up, back straight and shoulders stiff - just like the regular Jean Kirschtein. But still...

There were too many _'maybe's_ to him - or the part of him that I knew of. I wanted to know him more; I wanted to learn more of Jean Kirschtein - this person who saved me ages ago, this person who could be full of pride, yet have a quiet, mysterious side to him that felt all too lonely to me. It felt like a necessity, to understand him – though I could not fathom _why_ I wanted to.

Suddenly the silence was stifling; I tried breaking it:

"So, Jean, uh... How's your head now?"

He looked at me - again with that confused look. He lifted an eyebrow in question.

I rolled my eyes, until I pressed my fingers against my right temple, tapping it twice.

With that, he understood: "Oh, _that_. It's better now, thankfully..." he replied, rubbing the scar on his right temple.

Then he shoved me playfully, saying, "Geez, Marco, I've had worse than this!"

I shoved him back, laughing along.

"Well," I said, "then, could I ask why do you go to Petra...?"

His face fell at that - the same way it did when I had asked him about how he came here, one night. I mentally scolded myself: why would someone fucking ask that? I knew he didn't like talking about personal things - asking about this was even more unnecessary. Stupid me, stupid me, _stupid me-_

"It- it isn't anything big," he replied quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I mean, I just sometimes like her company, I guess."

“Do the others bother you?”

"No! They're great people!" he exclaimed, holding up his hands in defense. "They're awesome, but... But I don't know." he ended, shrugging in defeat. As I heard those words, my eyebrows drew up in worry.

“Sometimes,” he said, “I just feel like... a wall, while sitting with them – just- just _there_ , not much else. Ugh, forget it – I’m just being ridiculous.” He sighed roughly, walking a little faster.       

 _Jean,_ I thought, _do you believe no one understands you…?_  

I should say something. I should _really_ say something - something to finish this inner frustration and confusion he showed, something-

By the time I did come up with that very _'something',_ Jean spoke up first:

"Here we are!"

I looked up from the ground, and there it was; the hospital ward - where Petra worked.

"Well, here you go, then, _heh_..." I said, stopping in front of the door, marked with a red plus-sign. I started rubbing the back of my head, a little too sheepishly for my liking, as the silence ensued a moment too long.

Jean, on the other hand, smirked, punching my shoulder as he said, "Thank you for escorting me, _good ser._ " I bowed mockingly, to which he chuckled.

"Well, I'll go now," he said, "you can meet up with the others, if you want..." He opened the door, stepping inside, until-

-until I stopped him, holding his sleeve to keep him from going.

"W-wait," I blurted.

He met my eyes, more curious than confused. It was then that I realized that I was still holding his sleeve and wasn't letting him move and oh my god Marco say something say something _quick-_

I instantly let go of his jacket, rubbing the same hand behind my neck - again, sheepishly. _Fuck._

"I - I just wanted to say," I started, "that... that you don't have to stay away from the other guys. I mean, if you feel as if they can’t get you – then maybe I’d like… to try."

 _What did I just say?_ I thought, looking at my feet.

 _Why the fuck did I just say that?_ I thought again, feeling my face burn up.

Why did I say that? That sounded so cheesy and plain creepy god that is no way to talk to a friend what do I do what do I what do I _do_ -

When I sneaked a peak at Jean, I saw something that surprised me; he hid half of his face behind the door. And he was _blushing._

"Th-thanks, Marco," he mumbled, meeting my eyes. Those amber eyes glimmered with a tinge of pride - that same pride that suited him way more.

Before my cheeks would catch fire, I bid him a quick farewell, walking down the same hallway again. When I heard the door click close, I let out a breath I didn't know I had held inside. I felt my heart roaring in my ears. Was it because of what just happened - or was it because of a faint chuckle I had heard, just before the door had closed...?

 

* * *

 

"Cadets, for the rest of the day, I want you people to practice your skill at shooting. Bring them in!"

With that brusque order from Officer Mike, people started walking inside the vast training room, each of them carrying a crate, filled with something heavy. As they closed in, I recalled those dark, metallic things - guns.

"A crossbow won't be a 100% effective all the time. Like that, a blade will only help you in times of luck, or sheer skill, and nothing else. Only a few bullets into a zombie's skull can kill it easily. And so you all have to practice your aim," he said. By the time he finished, the people had placed their crates on the ground neatly, behind the Officer. When they left, a few more came in, dragging human-sized targets along with them - for our practice, it seemed. The tall, burly men in black brought in at least fifteen targets, propping them up against the wall behind Officer Mike as well.

"Aiming is most crucial," Officer Mike explained. "It has everything to do with how you'll deal with the zombies in the field. A few rules I'd like to clarify before you begin;" He paused to pull out a simple hand-gun out of his belt. Loading it up, he held it in his hand. Then he said:  
"First; hold the hilt of the gun tightly. If you lose your grip on the one weapon you have, then you have no chance. Second," he said, turning around to face one of the targets, "you must never let your concentration waver. When you're out there, all that matters is your target in front of you, and nothing else. Let that fuel you, so that you get a good aim at its head. Once you do, gently squeeze the trigger, until-"

He stopped abruptly, letting what happened next punctuate the stillness; he instantly pulled the trigger. With a loud bang, he shot, and the bullet flew out, cutting through the air swiftly, until a mighty slam echoed inside the room. The din of it all still resonated softly, moments after the bang. Smoke curled from the Officer's gun, as he finally completed:

" _-Fire._ "

I let out a gasp; the bullet hit right at the center of the target's head. That much accuracy looked fucking _lethal_.

Turning around, Officer Mike briefed us with how to load and unload a gun, and how to put its safety on as well. After that, he gave us way to pick our own weapon, and start practicing.

Today, after our regular two-hour warm-up, we were given our usual break. After that break, however, the schedule got different from yesterday’s one; today, the Officer clearly wanted us to be as efficient as we could, while fighting the zombies. He asked for accuracy at its finest, but I was afraid I couldn’t deliver it – not after the dreadful nightmare I witnessed last night:

In that nightmare, a zombie _spoke_ , its inhumane, gritty voice cutting through all the echoes of humanity’s agony:

“ _Look out, Human,_ ” it had rasped, “ _look out!_ ” And then it giggled manically, it’s glassy, dead eyes rolling inside its rotten skulls – just as it impaled me. Everything else later was too sudden: the shock, then _pain_ – white, _blinding_ pain – then the taste of blood in my mouth, and then red, red, _red-_

“Marco?” someone called.

I saw that it was just Armin, standing beside me.

“U-um, yeah?” I croaked.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost or something,” he said, shaking his head worriedly. “You’re pale, too. What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing!” I replied – more like squeaked – swallowing the taste of bile from the back of my throat. “Maybe the, uh, the food w-wasn’t too good …”

Armin gave me the look – the look that could see right through me; the look that could definitely look right through my blatant lie, too. I gnawed at my lower lip for the umpteenth time.

But I said, “It’s nothing, Armin, really.” I smile softly, just to convince him enough – though I don’t think a pained grimace would do any fucking good.

Thankfully, he nodded. He patted my shoulder, as he said, “Okay, then. Well, the other guys have gone to take their pick – you should go too." Before I could turn around, however, he held my arm. He said, “Hey, I’m here if you need help, okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed. This time I meant my soft smile.

Within the minute, cadets swarmed around the crates the people left us, quickly choosing their weapon. I walked towards the farthest wall, leaning down one of the crates. I looked at them, and saw how there was not much variety; there wasn't anything else other than simple handguns - so much different than the massive range of ammunition that the Western Wing has. As I picked one up, I saw how they were even covered with a thin film of dust. I wrinkled my nose at the sight; it's as if they weren't even remotely taken care of.

 _Or was it on purpose?_ a voice whispered in my mind.

I turned around. I saw Annie - but her back was towards me again, as she grouped with Reiner and Bertholdt, with a slouched, rather bored demeanor. Her words played in my mind again:

_“Maybe the Survey Corps isn't so pure as we might have hoped."_

I suppressed a shudder, quickly busying myself with loading my gun.

Loading and unloading a gun was easy to catch for me, but what lay ahead certainly unnerved me. The deadly precision that Officer Mike just portrayed was fucking insane – would I be able to replicate it?

A loud bang knocked me back to life.

I looked behind me; it was Eren, who shot a bullet at the target in front of him. He shot another, then another, and then another, until he had shot at the target five times, each boom louder than the last.

I craned my head to look at his results. I gasped; four of his shots fired at the red dot on the target’s head – one other straying towards the edge of it. But still; it was amazing that he got that close on his own – no other cadet was so lucky on their first try.

He comically blew a puff of breath over the mouth of his gun, and twirled it around it index finger.

“Think you can beat that, Kirschtein?” he asked.

“With my eyes _closed,_ ” Jean replied, as he emerged from the few cadets swarming around them, loading his simple gun. He abandoned his jacket today, wearing a simple white T-shirt instead – showing his tattoos that adorned his whole left arm. They flexed as he gripped the hilt of the gun with his left hand, smirking at Eren.

“Are you sure, Jean?” Eren pouted.

“Oh, you can bet on it, Jaeger,” he replied. Jean lined himself in front of a new target. Lifting his left hand, he pointed the gun forward, cupping the base with his right. His knees bent a little, as he steadied himself. His fingers clenched the gun tightly, and his gaze burned with concentration. And then he fired.  
Not once, but five times; one bullet flew after the other at an intense speed, until he stopped. Smoke lifted from its mouth in thin tendrils, as Jean lowered his hand. I looked at the target, to see his result. My mouth fell agape: 

All five shots hit the red spot, all of them flowering right at the center. No bullet strayed too far from the other.

After a moment’s silence, he glanced at me. There was pride shining behind his eyes again, with something else – but just as quickly, he turned and grinned devilishly at Eren.

“ _Good enough_ , Eren?” he asked, still grinning.

Eren just waved a hand at him, rolling his eyes. Just as Jean passed by him quite defiantly, he poked his tongue at him. Jean only punched his shoulder, shaking his head with a smile.

Once the procession ended, I searched around for some vacant target. I scoured throughout the room – but found none; all of them were already occupied by other eager cadets. I bit my lip; the Officer didn’t even bring any more. How would I practice _now_?

Just then, I heard someone: "Hey, Marco!"

I turned, and saw Jean, calling me.

"You can share mine!" he hollered, standing where Eren once stood. I sighed in relief, as I walked up to him.

The once-silent room now boomed with gunshots, the noise pressing around me. The sharp blasts echoed off the bare walls, each one making me flinch. Soon, I reached Jean – but he was too focused on finding something inside an empty crate, muttering something under his breath as he did so.

"I saw it somewhere- _Ah!_ " he exclaimed, as he stood up again. He held a pair of black ear-guards, which he thrust into my hands.

"Wh-what about you?" I asked, surprised.

He scoffed, replying, "I'm _fine_ , Marco. Really, you're too modest sometimes. You’re _flinching_ so much – you need it way more," he joked.

“Shut up,” I muttered, wearing the ear-guards nonetheless - nothing stopping my goddamn neck from burning up.

He rolled his eyes in reply. As he put his hands on his hips, he asked, "So, you know the basics?"

"Um..." I tried loading and unloading my gun, and did it well - Jean approved of that. He then wanted me to try and shoot at the red target. I tried lining myself in front of it, and raised my right hand, with the gun. Like the Officer, I cupped the base with my left hand. I peer at the red spot, and line the tip of my weapon right at its center.

But I pulled the trigger too soon.

The bullet flew, and hit the target with a loud bang. The force jarred me for a moment, my wrists aching.

When I looked at the result, I wrinkled my nose; it didn't even touch the red spot. It strayed too far wide - hitting its torso instead.

I raised my gun a little higher, and fired again - and again, and again.

My eye twitched when I saw the results again, wrenching off the ear-plugs; none of them landed on the red dot. All of them scattered themselves around the edge of it - one of them missing the target altogether.

When I turned to see Jean, he was shaking his head softly.

Before I could snap at him, he started:

"You got it wrong there."

He walked up to me, saying, "Your stance and everything else is okay, but you don't know how to _shoot_." He raised his hand, “Let me show you."

He grabbed my hand - with the gun - and held it tight. I could feel his rough fingertips brush past my wrists, the skin callused, but warm.

"This hand is crucial when you hold the gun, remember that. This hand has to stay firm. It _can't_ move," he explained. He guided it forward, until my arm was as straight as an arrow. By then, he was only a foot apart from me. From here, I could see the deeper details of his tattoo - the flames were much more intricate than I had hoped them to be; each fiery tendril wound around his taut arms, ending in a thin swirl, just before a new one would rise again. It was artistic – it suited him.

"Hold the hilt tightly, yeah like that," he urged. He walked to my left side, and lifted my other arm. "Use this hand to hold the hilt tighter, not to _rest_ the gun over it, got it?" I nodded, but faintly; he was close enough so that I could smell the sweat and traces of cheap soap he must have used.  
After that, he nudged my feet apart, making me bend my knees a little. "This way you'll get more ground, like the last time I told you - and try to aim with _both_ your eyes open," he explained.

Then, he went back to my right side. I waited for any further instruction he'd give - until he stepped closer; all that was left between us was a breath's distance.

"This is something I do," he told me, his voice faint within the constant chatter and blasts in the training room – yet crystal clear.

All other thoughts flew right out of the fucking window when he pressed his hand flat against my stomach. I sucked in a breath at the sudden contact, but Jean seemed unfazed. He pressed a little insistently, my stomach tensing under his warm touch.

"Keep tension _here_ ," he said, pressing his palm into my stomach, "for better accuracy. It does wonders, I'll tell you that." I could have turned my head just barely, and our noses could have brushed against each other - we were so close, it was hard to keep myself from burning up.

“And breathe in when you’re lining your shot, then breathe out just when you’re about to shoot,” he advised. I even felt his breath fanning over me in soft puffs.

As soon as that, he lifted his hand, and walked a few steps back. As if a draft let in a puff of air, I suddenly felt… _cold._

Coughing a little, I put on my ear-guards again. This time, I stood the way Jean advised me to. As soon as my legs were bent enough, and my arms straight enough, I lined my vision with the tip of the gun, and that with the center of the red spot. Just then, I breathed in. When my hands stopped shaking, I breathed out. And then I fired.

When I looked up, I cracked a smile.

It didn’t touch the center of the red circle – but it did skirt just around its edge. It was definitely the nearest I had gotten so far.

I looked at Jean – and saw him smiling. He beamed at me, applauding me.  It made me smile even more.

 _Damn my dreams_ , I thought, as I lifted my gun-hand again. _Damn them all – I’m living here, right now. I’m winning_ now. That smile certainly proved that, I knew.

I breathed in, and fired.

 

*

 

Throughout the rest of our training session, we had practiced our shooting, and done well. Thankfully, I had drastically improved, hitting the red spot once almost at its center. As we filed out of the room after a long day, I was reflecting back at the tiny victory I was able to behold, until Jean fucking burst that bubble:

“But you’ve still got a long way to go,” he said, folding his arms a little too proudly. I rolled my eyes, to which he smacked me up the head. We laughed together, talking on how I’d try to do better tomorrow.

As we turned towards the cafeteria, I saw Jean walking beside me, this time.

“You’re not going to Petra…?” I asked him.

He smiled softly, as he replied, “Well, I guess… _someone_ managed to make me feel as if - I wouldn’t be a wall this time.”

I could not even fathom a reply – so I deemed it better to walk on, training my gaze at my feet. But even so - well, it was a little hard to suppress the huge smile on my face.

 

Christa managed to use her kindness on the cook - which was why she allowed us a round of drinks to share; that same liquor that burned my throat the first time I drank it. But this time, I welcomed the burn it seared, as I gulped it down. Some cadets began racing each other on who would finish their drinks the fastest – which ended up with more than a few tipsy comrades.  
But that didn’t stop us from joking and laughing till our stomachs hurt. For the first time ever since we came to HQ-2, some of us laughed – and actually meant it. It felt good to have that buzzing energy bubbling through us again.

Connie and Reiner started singing incoherent tunes in raspy voices by the time we _tried_ making our way to our dorms, and Jean was doubling over with laughter. No one cared whether our voices would wake someone up – we were too fucking oblivious to even notice; as Reiner began singing 90’s pop songs in a hideous voice, I bet I burst a lung just laughing.

We collapsed on top our respective beds as soon as we opened our dorms, and some started snoring right away. As my head hit my pillow with a muffled thump, I sighed; this liquor sure did wonders to keep my mind light – lighter than usual. The warmth, along with my tired bones made my eyelids droop heavily. With one long sigh, I slid them close, Jean’s contagious laugh still ringing in my ears. I was too tired to worry about my dreams.  _Maybe it would’t be so bad this time,_ I thought.

But little did I know, then.

 

* * *

 

_It’s dark – it’s so dark – there wasn’t anything beyond me, behind me, around me, nothing. So why could I hear people dying?_

_I tried moving, searching, running, but all I heard was the rattling of – of chains. I felt heavy metal bind my limbs. I couldn’t move – couldn’t_ move. _I shouted, screamed, but heard nothing. My voice was silenced, my – my lips were sewn shut. Help me, help me-_

_Then, someone laughed. Just a giggle – something I could have missed.  
_ _But then it guffawed, its throaty voice sounding like sharp nails dragging across metal; a screeching so grotesque, it made me grit my teeth._

_Then I saw a bright glimmer within the darkness. T_ _he glimmer grew sharper, until a wide, wet smile greeted me._

_I screamed - but heard nothing. All I heard were the people around me screaming – children crying out for their parents, mothers calling for their sons and daughters, siblings calling out for each other… This is wrong, wrong,_ wrong-

_The zombie limped to me, its skull half-eaten. Maggots crawled out of its gaping mouth, eating away its decaying flesh, the rotten stench of death making me gag. It then lifted its hand slowly – revealing rows of dagger-like nails, sharp enough to skin me. Panic clawed at me, as I shook my head, but the zombie only smiled wider. It dragged the deadly tip down my chest. I screamed, and yet I heard nothing._

_It didn’t stop there._

_It slashed and ripped me apart. I shouted in agony so loud - but I heard nothing; I could only hear others’ agony – not my own._

_My body felt bloody and broken when it stopped – I must have been ripped to shreds. The pain, god, the pain – it was too much. Finish this pain; finish this, just fucking finish me,_ please-

 _But then I felt my body… reform. In a second, I was back to my old,_ whole _, self. Even my mouth was open. I dared laugh – was it out of happiness, or insanity? I was too fucking glad to even notice the fact that I couldn’t hear the screams anymore – or see the evil grin the zombie gave me._

 _I stopped breathing when the zombie’s eyes burned_ red _. And then it spoke:_

_**“Look out, Human.”** _

_Then no more were there screams of agony; those were chuckles and giggles of amusement. Trying to pull at the chains around me was useless - I couldn’t run; no, no, please, no-  
_ _Then all I saw, felt, heard, tasted, was pain; pain, burning pain, nothing else. Please no, kill me,_ kill me _, please, not this-_

 

 

And then I woke up, a cry escaping my lips.

I shook as frail as a leaf in a storm. Sweat trickled down my face, as I sat up, a hand pressed into my chest- I couldn’t _breathe_. I gulped in mouthfuls of air, trying to breath, just breathe – but it did no good. Suddenly, I saw fragmented flashbacks of my night terror: that grotesque grin, that blade, then pain, death – and then rebirth. And then- then sickening pain again –

Without thinking, I jumped out of bed, rushing to the bathroom. I fell on my knees, and threw up in the toilet.

I threw up everything and anything I had eaten the other day. Soon nothing came – but I heaved, and heaved, my stomach in knots. Finally, I stopped, as my hiccups and panicked gasps finished. I fell back with a thud, wiping the back of my mouth in disgust. I looked at my pale hands; my fingers trembled as the panic subsided. _It… it never got this bad…_

Swallowing down the bitter taste at the back of my throat, I got up on wobbly legs. I flushed, and turned to wash my face. The cold water did nothing to rid me of my trembling nerves.

Looking at my face in the mirror, I found tears running down my face – I was _crying._

Cursing myself, I wiped my eyes quickly, but more salty tracks trailed down, replacing them. _Stop, stop, just fucking stop crying_ , I urged myself, _stop being_ weak _, Marco. Stop, please..._ I clutched my hair in helpless distress, pulling at the roots. I pressed my forehead against the basin, as I fell apart.

How will I survive, this way – _how?_

 

* * *

 

The days that came afterwards were _torturous_.

Every day, I had to get up, and train, and survive - only to end up reliving hell at night; I had to go through those wretched nightmares, where I'd be ripped apart – only to be reborn after that, and then torn _again_. It was like a gruesome cycle I had to go through: of pain, death, _rebirth_ , and then pain again. I would try not to dream at all, but exhaustion of the day’s training always made my mind succumb to slumber. It felt like a gamble, each day; _maybe I wouldn’t dream this time,_ I’d think. _Maybe I’d actually sleep a dreamless sleep – it’s worth a try._

My bouts of hopeless optimism never did me any good.

Each day, my face grew paler, the bags under my eyes grew darker, and my mind grew number. Even getting up, talking, and laughing with the other cadets… it all seemed like a challenge; a long, grueling, useless challenge.

 

Tomorrow, the Commanders had to leave for their survey, and so preparations had begun; thus our training session was cut short by half. The Officer had dismissed the shooting session for the day, letting us do an hour's worth of regular warm-up exercises after our break, instead. But even so, the effort to punch the leather-bag hung in front of me made me grit my teeth. The previous night had left me restless, after all; the nightmare was the same fucking thing; it was that same gruesome cycle that left a leaden weight over me, growing heavier by the minute. It made it difficult to _exist_ \- let alone fight.

Even the other guys noticed; Armin asked me more than once whether I had been eating properly. I blatantly lied, telling him that I was eating fine – because telling him that the sight of food felt revolting didn't fucking seem natural. Eren would always stare at me in a worried manner, and I always tried avoiding his gaze. I avoided everyone’s gaze – I couldn’t let others see me this frail, this _weak._

It was hard to admit that even Jean had started noticing – he saw me slacking off while training many times during the past few days - throwing weak punches at the punching bag, or shooting shakily. He had just stared at my weak figure warily, but made no remark about it. I was thankful for that much.

But today I was not so lucky.

“This isn’t like you, man,” he said all of a sudden, as I lifted my fist. Turning towards me swiftly, he continued, “You were always attentive when you made your stance - even more so when you'd fight.”

I chuckled weakly in reply. “Oh, uh, must have forgotten...”

He only narrowed his eyes at me. “No, you can’t just suddenly _forget_. I've known you long enough - you aren't like that at all.” He leaned towards me, as he said, “You haven’t been yourself lately, Marco, I've noticed that. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It isn’t a-anything-“ I stuttered.

“Marco-,“ he started, gripping my arm.

“I’m serious, Jean,“ I countered shakily, "it's nothing."

“ _Bullshit_. Everyone can tell! I promise I’ll-“

"You don't _understand_ -"

"Then _make_ me understand if you have to-"

My nostrils flared. “I’m _fine_ , Jean, _stop it!_ ”

My voice was louder than I wanted it to be; loud enough for many people to hear - loud enough for others to turn around and stare at the pair of us. I felt my face heat up, and I wrenched my arm free of his hold.

But Jean’s gaze gripped a hold of me instead; he didn’t seem worried now, but his eyes – they were burning, shining, raging with something conflicting, as if he were wrestling a thought in his mind.

But then he withdrew his hand, and said, bowing his head in defeat, “Sorry…” His voice almost broke in between.

I couldn’t find it in me to say anything – I was too afraid I’d panic, or just fall apart. I turned around, and resumed training, punching the bag harder – clenching my fists hard enough to feel my nails digging in my skin, letting the leather brush past my knuckles harshly, letting it bruise, letting it hurt – just so I could feel _something._

Soon enough, training ended. Everyone huddle in groups, walking out of the room, chatting about the survey that would happen the next day rather hopefully. The energy buzzed from them, I could feel it; but it all but floated past, not settling over me like it used to – I was too tired to care. I couldn't find it in myself to make the effort to go to them, to share jokes and chats with them. It was too tiresome; and so, I dragged my feet, one after the other, until I was the last one to leave the room.

Everyone else turned to their left once again, heading for the cafeteria, Ymir even planning to bribe the cook for another drink. The others laughed along jibes and jests, feeling _happy_.

I sighed, and turned to my right, heading for the dorms directly.

I didn’t know what made my heart heavy; the impending doom I called my fucking nightly terrors, or the fact that probably no one noticed me turning this way. Not even _him._

 

As I entered my dorms, I sighed in relief; at least the room was empty. I slipped off my shoes, and made my way to my bed. Stepping close to it's edge, I stopped. I bit my lip, looking at the rumpled sheets; I did feel exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t – not with those screams of terror and madness again...

Biting my lip hard, I looked elsewhere. I had to kill some time, just to keep my mind off of things. I searched around the room - until I saw that familiar glass door.

Without thinking twice, I walked to it.

A cool wind blew softly as soon as I stepped out, ruffling my hair. My shirt was a little too thin to sit outside in the cold, but I didn't mind. With timid steps, I edged my way out, and sat down, crossing my legs comfortably. I closed my eyes, breathing in the silence and comfort. It had been ages since I physically felt the tension melt from my bones as easily as if it were water, trickling away until it stopped existing. As I opened my eyes, I chanced a glance at the stars.  
They sure were bright; ever since Trost fell into darkness, the night sky showed more stars than I had ever seen in my entire life; they sparkled like tiny diamonds, millions of them, behind a deep blue velvety sky. Counting them could have taken a fucking lifetime.

Maria and Mark always thought my freckles were _stars_.

I smiled softly at the memory. I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.

"But they are!" Maria would urge whenever I'd disagree, her eyes shining with blissful happiness that only a child like her could have felt. Mark would speak then, his brown eyes shining just like her sister's: "Look - there are so many!" he'd reason, pointing at my cheeks. "Just like stars!"

"Come on, guys," I'd say, rolling my eyes. "How could I have stars on my _skin_?"

The twins would poke their tongues out of their mouths in as much concentration as two six-year-olds could fathom, as they'd try thinking of some explanation - as to why I was the only one in the family to have freckles.

The two would always - _always_ \- answer together: " _Maybe aliens gave them to you!_ "

Sometimes I'd laugh, but most of the times I had to play along; on how the evil aliens took hold of me, and how I fought them, until they cursed me with spots on my face - turning me into one of them.

"That means-" they'd gasp together.

" _I'm one too_!" I'd cry out, curling my hands into makeshift claws, as I'd rasp, " _and I shall eat you two alive!_ " I'd laugh evilly to scare the two - attacking them with my lethal trick of tickling them until they'd wheeze and shriek with delight.

 

I laughed softly at those memories. I thought I had forgotten them, the two...

I hugged my legs tighter, sighing. Another gust of wind whispered through Trost, carrying a familiar scent along with it, as it caressed my skin; it brought that nostalgic aura of _home_. Home; the homes we built by ourselves; the homes we lived in; the homes we thrived in; the same homes we lost, just as those zombies attacked us.

Those zombies - those vile creatures couldn't wipe out an entire fucking city just for the fun of it. They couldn't just take it all away for no reason - there had to be something behind it all, behind...

I squinted through the veil of blackness, and even then, I could see that jagged line marking the edge of horizon:

_The Wall._

Beyond that, must lay something else; beyond that wall, there had to be secrets and whispers we never heard, never knew existed. Beyond that mere line etching the sky, there had to be a reason - a reason behind these zombies, their motives, their evolutionary abilities, _everything_. I could only pray that the Commanders could safely make their survey a success, tomorrow.

As soon as I thought of it, a shiver went through me. I didn't feel so good about it, now that I pondered over it. These last days, it's been a little too quiet. The zombies were too silent - too peaceful and _immobile_ for my liking; they even stopped howling at night - something that had been their daily habit before. My heart sunk in my chest; that can't mean any good. What if we lost again - what if they won again? Would we even have a chance to win, then? Our chances seemed so slim, it was hard not to think about the inevitable _'what if's_ now...

I bit back a bitter laugh - I've always been weak; I've always been a fucking coward – always the one to over think, always the one to fret too much, always the one to _hide_ ; never the one to fight.

But then, with a start, I heard something in my mind:

" _You're saying that after the wicked stunt you pulled at the gas station? God, Marco, cut yourself some slack..."_

A smile tugged at my lips again.

_"... If anything, you saved us. So I should be the one thanking you..."_

I rested my head on my knees again, staring at that same place, where Jean had sat beside me, what seemed like ages ago. He gave me words I never thought I'd treasure this much. I still found myself remembering those words he spoke:

_"When I was younger, I'd hate to see a recruit - a friend - die almost every other day, and it hurt. It even hurts now."_

I remembered how he had paused, a mixture of discontent and loneliness mirroring him, his eyes going glassy for a moment; glassy with all the bitter pieces of the past he must have remembered in a split second - maybe of the suffering he had to see and go through.  
But then, he had slid his eyes close, and just breathed in, and breathed out. Such a simple act had done wonders for him; visibly, I had seen how his worry lines, his sadness, his melancholy had just dissolved.

He had stared at the stars, when he said the next thing:

_"But it just makes me want to fight harder, y'know? We lost a battle, not the war."_

As I recalled those words, it easily plucked my uneasiness away, like a leaden weight being lifted off of my chest momentarily. Was it his choice of words that did the trick, or his soft, soothing voice, I couldn't tell.

But there was one thing I remembered most clearly:

_"We will make it matter for them; we will finish those zombies, 'cause no one is allowed to die in vain, you hear me?"_

Even now, it filled me with hope - just as much as it had the night he said those words, holding my shoulder in his hand, making me believe in them. Back then, it had given me some insane energy - some weird fucking will to survive, and keep on surviving; there was something in that _"we"_ he used, the way he said it, it still made me feel warm - despite all that I lost.

I shivered again, running numb hands up and down my arms. I turned to glance at the beds, to see if anyone came - thankfully, no one was there. But there was nothing that finished that weird feeling of longing, like a thread nagging at my heart.

I sighed again: if only optimism could catch as easy as a fucking common cold. Maybe if he were there beside me... Maybe I wouldn't be this weary; maybe that longing that tugged at me could go away - just maybe.

With one last fleeting glance at the stars shining over me, I rested my head on my shoulders again. Just as I was at the edge of slumber, I realized I hadn't pulled my gaze off of the empty space beside me at all.

 

* * *

 

_Soft laughter, giddy smiles, and an aura of home surrounded me, filled me - completed me._

_"It's your turn, Marco!" he said._

_"Okay, okay! Jeez..."_

_My little brother, Mark, beamed from where he stood, holding his twin sister, Maria's hand in his own. They both smiled big toothy smiles, their big brown eyes shining - like mine. Then they pointed their index fingers at me, and spoke together:_

_"And no peeking!"_

_I rolled my eyes, and slid them close. The last glimpse I caught of the two was of their brown hair - Maria shrieking in excitement - as they turned and ran outside the room. My room._

_Closing my eyes, I started counting to 50, to let my siblings hide as well as they could. But our house was not too big - I could always find them easily._

_Soon enough, my counting finished._

_"Ready or not, here I-" I started, turning around, but the rest of my speech got lost - all under a broiling feeling of dread clogging at my throat._

_Just as I opened my eyes, the scene changed - no longer was I in my room, or in my house. This place was a hallway, both empty and eerie at the same time, with darkness curtaining everything before me, and behind me._

_I licked my lips. I have to find Mark and Maria - quick. I could already feel the terror starting to rise in me, as if something could go wrong any moment..._

_"Maria?" I called out, my voice shaking, echoing across the empty hallway. "Mark?" I raised my foot - but I then I heard a slick, wet sound, from beneath me._

_I looked down, and I_ gagged _._

 _There was blood - thick, red_ blood _\- pooling around me, washing the floor in its sickly bright hue. I swallowed down the taste of bile from my throat. I had to find them. I continued on, covering my nose with my sleeve, ignoring the way my shoes lift and press into the fluid with a sickening_ squelch.

_Darkness fell behind me with each step I took forward, pressing me on and on, as if a dark, gaping presence pushed me ahead, one step at a time. Cold sweat trickled down my forehead, and I shivered. But I still kept moving. I had to find them, had to-_

_Just as the thought passed my mind, a door flickered right into my vision - and there it was, a plain wooden door. I quickened my pace, taking longer strides. They must be there - there, they have to be there, please-_

_My breath left me when I saw the- the blood pooling from beneath the door - red at most places, and..._

_...and blackness cutting through the bright red fluid, too._

_I fucking ran to that door. Even the darkness started running with me, pressing into me insistently, threatening to consume me whole. I had to run- faster, faster, faster - I had to find them, keep them safe._

_I neared the door. I took the knob in my hands, and wrench it open._

_I stop breathing._

_There laid two people -_ children _\- lifeless and limp, their bodies as frail and weak as rag dolls. They were covered in blood - both red and black - from head to toe. A little girl lay over a boy, their pale arms wrapped around each other in one last embrace - as a measly attempt to save themselves.  
_ _I walked to them weakly, falling to my knees. My hand shook when I extended it - to see their faces. Even before I looked at them, tears stung my eyes: it's not them, it can't be them - please, don't let it be them-_

_I held the girl's shoulder, cold and dead. I turned her around. A loud, ragged cry escaped my lungs._

_Those brown eyes... It can't be anyone else._

_I glanced at the two lifeless bodies in denial. No, no, no, no, no, please, no, no-_

_No!_

_I held my siblings' dead bodies to my chest, sobbing until my chest hurt, crying until my voice gave out to a raspy breath, holding them hard enough to break a few bones. A string of sobs mingled with 'sorry's escaped my mouth aimlessly; sorry that I couldn't keep them safe, sorry I couldn't protect them -_ sorry, sorry, sorry _. I hugged their bodies tight, hoping beyond any fucking hope that maybe they'll wake up, maybe they'll wrench free of my arms, and start making fun of my tears - maybe they'll_ live _, please..._

_I felt their arms fidget. One of them clutched my left shoulder - it was Maria. For a moment, I actually felt a flicker of hope._

_I held the two in front of my face. Did they wake up? Are they alive?-_

_They did wrench out of my grasp. But they didn't make fun of my tears, they didn't do anything of the sort-_

_They smiled._

_And their eyes burned red._

_My heart stopped._

_I started shaking my head, and backed away. I fell on my back, hands scrambling around for something to hold, but all I held and felt was slick, wet blood, covering me in it's sick stench of death._

_No, no, no, no-_

_"_ Look out, Human, _" my twin siblings rasped - in a scratchy voice I knew too fucking well._

_Before I could scream, darkness engulfed me, until I was surrounded by screams and shouts of agony and giggles and bubbling laughter of insanity alike. I couldn't even tell the difference anymore - not when pain ripped me in half, a tense agony so vivid and real it fucking jarred me; was I screaming? Was I crying? Was I laughing? I couldn't tell. I couldn't care; let me out, let me out, let me out-_

 

The pain ebbed away just as I opened my eyes.

My eyes fucking hurt when I opened them wide, meeting morning light bright enough to counter the darkness - the same darkness I called my nightmare.

I doubled over, calming my racing heart, keeping myself from puking again. Pressing a hand to my chest, I breathed in through the nose, and out of my mouth _. It's just a dream, it's just a dream, Marco,_ I told myself, as I wrung my numb hands. Once again, I felt tears streaking my cheeks – with a tired sigh, I wiped them away. It was a dream - but the heavy guilt over my heart was real.

It was after a moment that I noticed - I was still outside. I had slept outside throughout the night. 

I turned around, and saw all the other cadets sleeping away in their respective beds - some snoring away fitfully. Just then, I noticed the blanket around my bear arms.

What...?

I stared at it with a puzzling expression. I didn't recall wearing any blanket over me before sitting here. How the hell did it get here...?

Nevertheless, it was warm. And I needed it. So I chose to wrap the fabric over me, snuggling into it deeper. I rested my chin over my knees, and stared over the city of Trost.

It wasn't really that bright, but bright enough to see the bleak bundles of buildings we called our city. From where I could see it all, everything was just... grey; the buildings were made of monotonous shades of dark grey, and the sky a lighter one, as the Sun hid behind thick clouds. Just where the tallest building stood at its highest, I could see a dense, blackness to the sky, as heavy clouds crowded against each other. _It could rain after a few days,_ I thought.  It all seemed dead - well, it _was_ dead, after all.

A few crows started squawking, circling over the buildings with beady eyes and hungry gaits, their beaks snapping at the air eagerly. _Maybe they were picking out their corpse to eat,_ I thought.

The mere thought of a corpse brought the same image in my mind - those lifeless bodies I called my siblings...

I dug my nails in my palm hard. I screwed my eyes shut.

 _Don't, Marco,_ I threatened.

With a start, I remembered: the Commanders were to leave today.

I couldn't afford to break now; not when our leaders had to make their way through the city again, for surveying purposes. It seemed small - but who knows what one could get from just a simple mission?

 _Hold it together,_ I told myself. The others must have been holding their pain for so long - I should do the same. Or at least I should try.

On wobbly legs, I stood again. Just before I'd make my way towards the dorms, I stared at that jagged line warily - that fateful wall of ours.

With a wary stare, I turned and left.

 

* * *

 

The revving engines' dying echoes were all we heard within the basement where we stood, as the last of the Commanders’ motorbikes left HQ-2. Commander Erwin's speech still rung in my ears as I stood there, a clamped fist over my heart:  
"We hope to be done before the day grows dark. Hopefully, we'll find something fruitful in this mission. Keep your hopes high, cadets - we'll definitely get through this," was what he said. But as he sat on his bike, his gaze focused down, his blue eyes told something else - an _uncertainty_. A different thing, from what other cadets have been feeling optimistically; a much similar thing, that I had been feeling since morning.

Just as it died out, a sudden silence hung in the air over the room, thick and suffocating, like a lingering, heavy presence that instilled in me a cold feeling, as uncomfortable as a shiver down one's spine.

I bit my lip as we file outside the room. _It’s just a mission, nothing else_ , I thought. 

But why did I feel so afraid?

 

*

 

Training commenced with the same fervor as it always did. And as much as I used to enjoy those moments where my muscles would burn with effort, I didn't like it so much now. It just tired me more. Time felt slow and fuzzy for me - it just wouldn't move.  
My thoughts felt sluggish, too. I could blame the lack of sleep, but my brain pointed at something else:

Was it the anxiety I had felt due to the mission, or was it because Jean would not even bother making eye contact with me?

I paused for a while, holding the punching bag with my left hand, wiping the sweat off my brow with my right. I tried to seem as if I were just catching my breath – but really, I found myself glancing at Jean next to me.

Again, he didn’t bother to look towards me. He didn’t seem to care at all.

I internally cursed myself and my petty habits; _this shouldn’t even bother you that much,_ I thought. Why the hell was it now?

I sighed, as I resumed attacking and defending. If anything, his sudden silence made sense; I was the one who had burst out at him to stop bugging me yesterday – to stop caring, it seemed. It felt necessary to say that back then, but now, all it left was a cold, empty feeling in my chest – the place that once felt warm whenever he’d compliment my improvement.

 _It will be a long day,_ I thought.

And it _was._

After what felt like forever, we were given our break. Everyone stretched and rested their tiring muscles, talking about the different tactics of the mission over food. As I picked at my lunch, I listened to them:

“They’ll most probably just scale the place in a one-meter radius, that’s all,” one said.

“No, they can’t,” another countered, “they’ll recover some of the men that died last time - it would make sense…”

“If the crows left some for us, that is,” someone joked, “and besides - Commander Levi is too strict for that kind of reckless measure, I reckon. They might not even scale any place, for all I know-“

“No,” a recognizable voice spoke. I tore my gaze from my food, and looked at Jean.

He sat at the far end of the table. His palms were flat against the table, and his look was steely. He stared at the recruit who he countered, pointing a finger at him.

He said, “The Commanders know what they’re doing. They aren’t idiots that they’ll choose such trained men just to take a stroll outside.” He started shaking his head slowly, threading his fingers together. As he rested his chin on top of them, he continued, “No... this mission definitely has a motive – not a simple one, at that.”

“Nothing’s gonna be simple from now on, not after what happened last time,” said Mikasa.

Jean nodded, as he looked at his food in a perplexed manner. I could tell – I knew – that something else was working away in his mind, like gears turning and churning his thoughts into a bigger idea, an idea he was a little hesitant to share. He was always great at tactful things like that – Armin told me he was one of the best; he could make logical deductions extremely well, though he was a little slower than most. But as I stared at him, his eyes flitting across his empty plate, catching something that wasn’t actually there – like a thought – I couldn’t help but feel curious about those thoughts, those ideas, those gears working away methodically; what worked behind Jean’s mind? What made Jean, _Jean_?

“They _will_ be scaling the place,” started Jean, “and on a much larger radius than just one meter – maybe all the way to the Western Wing.”

“Wait,” said Armin, “You can’t mean-“

“-That they just might be going that wide on purpose,” Jean explained, “Maybe they’re going to check the Western Wing or other places for any new surprise the zombies must have left for us.”

There it was again; that same silence that spread inside the room, suffocating us. It was hard not to swipe my palms against my thighs out of anxiousness. Jean was right – there could be no other reason to it; it really was a survey mission, but not a simple one. This was a survey, but with a bigger motive behind it – possibly the difference to us living, or dying inside this cage we were trapped in.

I gulped, gripping my knee. Please let the odds be in our favor, this time.

 

*

 

Soon, we were in the training room again, practicing our shooting skills. The blasts of guns-fires echoed around me, but it was not enough for me to ground myself into _now_. The sluggishness in me did not leave, not even after training before, not even after some rest. It made me feel heavy, like wet cotton in my arms rather than any muscle. My arm shook when I raised it, and when I shot, no bullet even touched the target

Jean would have ‘ _tch’ed_ , shaking his head at my stance, or the way I held my gun - _something_.

But he did nothing.

He was too busy practicing his own skills – the ones he was perfect at.

I glanced at Jean again. He stood many paces away from me, but I could still see that tattooed arm that was unmistakably his. He shot five rounds, and just as expected, each of them hit the target effortlessly. But when he paused to reload his gun, I could almost _hear_ him sigh, even with all the noise – he was bored;

 _Was he bored, or just pensive?_ I thought to myself.

I sighed again, like an old man. _I shouldn’t have exploded on him like that,_ I chided myself. I should try apologizing to him.

 _But only if he’d want you near him,_ an evil voice whispered, within the recesses of my mind.

Without any other thought, I resumed practicing my shots.

But even so, none of them hit the target – and I had to act as if my heart didn’t sink when I gave into that evil whisper, almost believing it.

 

*

 

It was dark by the time we finished. I glanced at my watch – it was 9 PM already. The Commanders promised to come back even before it got dark. Mild panic started bubbling inside of me at the realization –what if something went wrong…?.

It erupted full-time when I heard the shouts of men – and of gunfire. _Outside_.

All the cadets looked at each other. No one spoke – everyone was too petrified to make the effort.

It was Officer Mike’s booming voice that did it for us:

“ _Cadets_! Make your way to the basement immediately – the Commanders have arrived.”

Without thinking twice, we ran.

Everything else was chaos; cadets, new and old alike rushed down the black stairs. Senior inhabitants, leaders, and even Officer Mike rushed out, already shouting orders to other guards and cadets in a sharp voice.  
The metal rumbled beneath my feet, as the cadets swarmed down each step hastily. My heart was beating just as fast, hammering against my chest. One floor down, the gun-shots ceased. Down another floor, and I heard loud bangs – of fists against metal. Sweat stung in my eyes, as we approached the basement, my breath ragged. The banging didn’t stop, and nor did the shouts – _this can’t be good._

We entered the basement. Just then, the gates opened. The revving of the engines was what cut through the stale silence, as people flooded inside. In a split second, nurses and doctors in white approached the recruits, inspecting them of any injuries. I started counting them, to make sure everyone made it back – twenty people made it back. Twenty people; that was how many people were chosen, I knew. I sighed in relief – the sigh clogging at my throat when I realized:

_The Commanders._

Did they make it?

Just as that thought whispered past my mind, I heard a distant rumble; as I looked ahead, I saw two more bikes entering the basement, just before the gates were sealed closed. As they closed with a loud bang, I saw – those were our Commanders. They were the last to arrive; they made it back.

We cadets stood at the edge of the basement, our backs pressed against a wall. With a stomp, we pressed our fists against our hearts, and welcomed them with proud cries.

Under the dim white lights, I could see Commander Levi looking at us, wiping his sweaty brow. Commander Erwin stood beside him, his gaze as steely as ever. Both Commanders nodded at us, thanking us silently. They both seemed uninjured – but even so, soot and grime lined their skin, and their eyes looked... _bewildered._  
Commander Levi then stared at Commander Erwin silently, until he nodded solemnly. With one swig of water a nurse gave him, he got off his bike. Officer Mike stepped up to him, ducking his head as they talked. They both looked grave once they finished – that made me _sweat_. With a brusque nod, Officer Mike turned towards us:

“Assemble back in the Main Area," he commanded, "and maintain formation till we arrive – the Commanders have a report to share. Now!”

We had no choice, quietly making our way outside. All we cadets remained silent through the whole trek to the Main Area. I stared at my feet, as I walked on. I gnawed at my lip, deep in thought; the way the two Commanders came in later, the way Commander Levi spoke to Officer Mike, in such urgency - it made me worry. What made it more so was how _troubled_ the two Commanders looked, right after they came; they were known for how fierce and brave they were in battle – nothing good could have made them look like that; as if they had witnessed hell.

Did they?

My brain was going haywire by the time we arranged ourselves in formation, waiting in the Main Area. I grazed my teeth across my bottom so many times I could taste blood. No longer could I feel my nails biting into my palms; I was too anxious, too afraid of what would happen next, what the Commanders would bring in…

Just then, the doors opened, to reveal Commander Erwin and Commander Levi. Officer Mike also came, who dragged in a projector and a white-screen along, as well. He and a cadet helped pull that up erect, as the Commanders stood in front of us. From here, I could clearly see just how tired they look; under the white lights of the room, the trails of dirt accentuated their dark circles, making them look older than they were. They held their shoulders stiffly and high, standing there with arms folded – but their gazes were cast down, and their eyes drawn down in worry; it was enough to make me realize that something was wrong.

Once the projector was connected and set up, Commander Erwin spoke: “Good evening cadets. I must say, this was not the way we had wanted to share our survey recordings with you – but we had no choice; with what we found… We couldn’t waste any more time.

“As you all know, we had aimed to survey the areas around HQ-2, as a precautionary measure – after what happened last time, we couldn’t risk overlooking it. We started from the West of HQ-2, growing the radius of our search by one meter after every round. There, thankfully, we didn’t find anything.”

Commander Levi spoke next: “But let’s cut to the chase. We didn’t find anything to the west, or north, or south of HQ-2. We did, however, spare a deeper search through the East – right till the Western Wing.”

I bit back a gasp; it was just how Jean had predicted.

“There,” started Commander Levi, “we _did_ find something.”

He then glanced at Commander Erwin. Just on cue, Commander Erwin picked a tablet from the table. He tapped at the screen, bringing it to life. After a few strokes of his fingers, the white screen lit up.

“When we had traveled down the Eastern route by one mile, we saw _this_ ,” he said, as the screen popped up an image. It was an image of Trost; it was daytime, with sunshine lighting up the bleak buildings, the sky filled with thin clouds – except there was a dark curl of black smoke right at the center. _Was it…_

“We suspected it to just be some ruins that must have caught flame, but even so, we didn’t let it go. As we came nearer, the smoke grew thicker.”

As he said that, Commander Erwin displayed more images of Trost, where a tendril of smoke crawled up into the air, growing thicker with each image he’d show - until it was all but a pillar of billowy, sooty smoke, reaching for the sky. I could feel my blood run cold as my eyes flitted across each picture. How did that fire lit up on its own? _Who_ lit that fire?

“We were curious as to what was the source of that fire. Everything had been so unusually quiet – it was enough to puzzle us. It was once we arrived at the Western Wing that we saw for ourselves.”

He tapped the tablet in his hands once. An image popped at the white screen. We gasped:

It was the Western Wing; the place where we were sent, the place where I sought refuge, among other survivors of Trost – now drowsed in flames.

My eyes blew wide as I saw that picture; the mighty Western Wing, with its tall, vast, impregnable walls now burned. Yellow flames licked up granite and cement hungrily, leaving no space clear.  The whole building was engulfed in thick, fiery flames as easily as if it were made out of paper. I could not believe my eyes- the Western Wing _burned_.

I could feel the wave of shock pass through us; I heard collective gasps from around me – even a whimper of fear. My hands trembled as they hung limps at my sides. It felt so unreal… How could the Western Wing just burn like that - how could it be reduced to ashes like that...?

"The Western Wing has fallen,” said Commander Levi. The pause he left after that cued in a silence that was too thick for me – too much for me to bear. He then continued, “Once we saw that, we decided to fall back, before we’d face any more surprises than we could afford.”

“Fortunately, we didn’t,” said Commander Erwin. “It was only just as we reached HQ-2, that we were encountered by a few zombies – around five of them, that we killed ourselves. Even so, the fact that we encountered them so late was enough to make us feel suspicious.”

“There’s no point in beating around the bush,” Commander Levi professed. “We’ll put it to you all as we see it: this was no coincidence. This was _planned_   by the zombies - or their leader. They planned to finish the Western Wing to weaken us – there can be no other reason.”

I felt numb to the bone, and yet there was no denying the heaviness in my chest. The _finality_ of it all… The finality of that picture that Commander Erwin showed it; it was too cruel to bear-

_The Western Wing had fallen._

How did it everything end up like _this_?

 

* * *

 

 

 

[here's my tumblr yo](http://captaink-irschtein.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES I TOOK THAT IDEA FROM DIVERGENT FIGHT ME  
> So i hope you guys like this update - i hope it isnt too long or plot-less orz  
> Do review if you can - they really help, and i appreciate them A LOT!


	7. Unravel I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over the passage of time, many things started unraveling before me - conspiracies, mysteries, impending thoughts that stung my mind, and a confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG TIME NO SEEEE AYYYYY
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: bloody, gorey scenes, explicitly described nightmares, w/ depressed/self-hatred/mild-suicidal themes (its rlly mild!), so please tread with care! <3
> 
> but before u go ahead just look at this [magnificent art](http://sturmfeuerzeug.tumblr.com/post/106321007311/some-sketches-inspired-by-the-first-chapter-of) [sturmfeuerzeug](http://sturmfeuerzeug.tumblr.com/) on tumblr made for the first chapter of TSO! <3

**_Unravel I_ **

 

Bright rays of sunlight streamed through the glassed windows, lighting up the entire room in one fell swoop. Grunts, thuds, slaps of skin against leather was all that resonated through the air; training continued on just like any other day, after all. Meanwhile, the Officer of HQ-2, Mike Zacharius, shouted orders at us, to straighten our stances, aim better, and train harder, harder, harder.

“The battlefield won’t let you slack off!” demanded Officer Mike, “Perfect your aim - don’t slip up, not even for one second!”

And I tried - God knew that I tried, as I held my fists over my face, tightened them, and forced them against the mannequin in front of me faster. But it got exhausting, when the only thing on my mind for three days straight was that one sentence:

_The Western Wing has fallen._

It almost sounded like a dream; a cruel, nasty dream, too unreal to be reality. It felt like a thought I'd shake after a few moments, simply calling it a silly 'dream'.

If only it had been that easy.

*

_Three days ago:_

 

“The Western Wing has fallen,” announced the Commander, Levi Ackerman.

For a second, there was silence.

And then, it felt as if someone dropped a bomb.

All at once, the room broke out in an endless mass of noise; fearful cries, bursts of angry shouts, and more than a few frightful gasps filled the air around me. It felt suffocating to just stand there, with the air that I breathed stained with so much panic, fear, and dread - poisonous and deadly. I tried not to lose it there and then, as I curled my hands into fists. But I couldn’t even feel my nails biting my skin - everything felt wrong, everything felt _numb_. How could an entire wing just… _fall_?

“What do you mean, ‘ _fallen_ ’!” shouted a cadet.

“What will we do now!” cried another.

“Where will we go?!”

“How can the Western Wing-”

Commander Levi had had enough of it:

“ _Silence_ , cadets!” he ordered, with a voice so sharp it cracked through the panicked air like a whip, dissolving the noise down to a quivering silence.

He did not stop there: “We can’t sugar coat the facts for any of you. We’re giving you all the news as it is - the Western Wing is gone for good. And there’s no going back. It’s high time you all acted like the brave cadets we recruited!”

“Please, at ease, cadets,” ordered Commander Erwin. “We have to discuss a few more things.”

Once the cadets cooled down a bit, Commander Erwin thought it well to proceed; knotting his hands behind his back, he started pacing the length of the room, as he continued on, in a hard-set voice: “By now, the idea that there might be someone leading the zombies against us is pretty much evident; there’s no point in beating around the bush at that. But, we did come up with a few more details, from our observations.”

“Something you’d realize after seeing these pictures of the Western Wing,” said Commander Levi, this time calmly, “would be that somehow, those zombies attacked - and practically destroyed - the Wing. The idea’s too far-fetched if you think about how well-secured the place was; I mean, the zombies somehow killed all the guards stationed at the walls, then killed the back-up guards there, climbed up the walls, broke in through the heavy gates, and then burned the whole place down to the ground.”  
After counting each option on his fingers, he proceeded, “If you look at it that way, you’d think, ‘ _this is too much for some band of mindless zombies, or even a normal person to accomplish._ ’ Well, that leaves us with one assumption…”

I gulped dryly. The Commander was right; no normal person could have taken down a building as big, as vast, and as strong as the Western Wing. _Then what other assumption was left?_ I gnawed at my lip in thought, trying to think hard - what else can it be? _What else?_

And then it hit me. I gasped; _could it be-_

“...that this person who’s helping those zombies is someone from within the Corps,” he continued, “Again, not someone normal - not some plain recruit, newbie, or any guard. No… This person must know things only us Commanders know. This person must be either really deep into our confidential materials, or just really good at knowing things they shouldn’t know.”

A crippling sort of silence filled the room, as the daunting realization struck us; this person, who’s practically siding with the zombies, must be from within us.  
 _It could be anyone_ , I suddenly understood. Sweat trickled down my temple. I resisted the urge to bolt; I resisted the urge to turn around, scan all the recruits around me, and doubt each and every face I once called friendly. That was the last thing I wanted to do.

“If you look deeper into this matter, you’d notice one other thing,” Officer Mike spoke. Crossing his arms across his chest, he continued, “As Commander Levi suggested, someone deep into the Corps’ secret information must’ve been working with the zombies. But judging by how seemingly easily they destroyed the entire Western Wing within the day, it wouldn’t just be one man’s job - no matter how big an army of zombies you carry. From this, you’d think that more than a few people are in on this; that not one - but many might be conducting the zombies.”

“There could be one other deduction from this,” cut in Commander Erwin, raising a hand, “There could be one other thing...”

My heart had sunk right down to my stomach with each assumption they threw at us - one other suggestion made by Commander Erwin would fucking kill me right there and then. But judging by the way his blue eyes hardened almost instantly, like dyed steel… it made my blood run cold; that look… That look couldn’t mean anything good. I could taste the metallic taste of blood on the tip of my tongue, and yet I bit my lip harder than before.

“I won’t bet everything I have with this assumption, but there’s no point in hiding it from you cadets,” said Commander Erwin. Squaring his shoulders at us, his eyes as hard as ever, he stated his fact to us:  
“From this event, we can assume that the zombies have achieved higher evolutionary changes - enough to cause greater catastrophe than they ever have before. Now… they’re a deadlier threat.”

My legs felt light, my brain felt foggy, and my throat went dry. What is he saying…? Have they evolved that much? Have they evolved to such an extent, that we aren’t a threat to them anymore?

Commander Erwin sighed tiredly. When his shoulders sagged, it seemed as if he had suddenly aged five years. He looked so tired, as if he were carrying Humanity’s weight upon his shoulders - quite _literally_.  
He said, “We understand how hard these things must feel to you all. But we trust you people as the proud cadets of the Survey Corps we recruited - so we know you all will recover soon, and train harder. Take this not as a total loss, but as a ray of hope - a chance to understand our enemy better. And you all have learnt from the start - the better you know your enemy, the quicker you can end them. Now, we'll only look forward - to get out of HQ-2 as soon as we can. Rest well; you all are dismissed.”

The walk back was slow, and descent to slumber was even slower. No matter how much I twisted and turned in my bed, I couldn’t help but want to counter what Commander Erwin said; how could we ' _recover soon_ '? There seemed to be no fucking ‘ _ray of hope_ ’ for us, nothing visible enough to hold, to believe in.  
How could we train harder, when all of our hopes had practically burnt away with the remains of the Western Wing? How could we take the news as anything but a loss, when it looked like nothing else?

In my dreams, I was lost, too. In my dreams, I saw nothing - no light, no ray of hope. In my dreams, I only heard; I heard the zombies that surrounded me, with their sick presences.  
But they didn’t scream, like they normally did. No, they didn’t screech, or do anything of the sort.

They only laughed - _mockingly_.

*

The days ahead had been fucking _hard_.

No matter how hard we trained, no matter how much we improved our shooting skills, or perfected our kicks, punches, defensive stances, anything - there was nothing that could improve our hope. There was nothing that could somehow magically make us believe in a brighter future again; the damage our hopes went through that day had been irreparable.  
Even as I spared a glance around me now, I saw something different. Any other day, I’d see cadets striving hard; I’d see cadets trying their best to hone all of their weaknesses. I’d see, this burning fire beneath everyone’s eyes, a fire that seared with dedication, determination, firmness - a _hope_ , of seeing a brighter future, of actually standing a chance against the zombies, and one day, ending them.

And now, there was nothing but emptiness underneath everyone; now, there was no fire that burned with a strength of purpose. Now, everything just looked cold, bleak, hopeless.

_Now is not the time to be thinking about that, damn it_ , I chided myself, instead busying my mind in other things - like trying to hit the mannequin in front of me, for one thing. Panting, I wiped my forehead, sticky with sweat. With one last gulp of air, I turned both my hands into hard fists, and smacked my target, harder, harder, harder.

And yet - _and fucking yet_ \- my punches only grew weaker, my stance fainter, and my concentration even more so. No matter how hard I punched, kicked, struck, more, more, more - nothing could make me better. Nothing could make me stronger; my nightmares had done enough damage on me, that event did nothing if not crushed me to pieces. There was nothing that could repair what little hope I had.

There was nothing that could relight that kindling flame with which we cadets once burned. Nothing.

 

The first bit of training passed by gruesomely slow, till we were pardoned for lunch. Sighing in relief, I made my way to the cafeteria - which turned out to have become quieter than it had ever been. Not much of a surprise.

Upon entering the dimly lit room, I’d usually hear Reiner boasting about how much he had trained, sometimes fighting about it with other cadets, on the good days. I’d hear Connie and Sasha teasing each other; I’d see Ymir and Christa sitting close to each other - almost inseparable. Upon entering the cafeteria, I’d feel warm, as if I just entered a place similar to what I’d call home.  
But after that uneventful day, everything shifted drastically. No longer was there any proud, loud voice, talking about how well their muscles have been “in shape”; no longer was there noises of pushing, pulling, or any kind of jibe, or insult. The place no longer felt familiar; it felt cold, detached, unknown. It even felt emptier; the place, as sparse as it was, now never seemed to be full to the brim as it used to be; before, many liked enjoying a bowl of hot food after some training. But now, most didn’t eat much, others not at all - maybe they were too preoccupied with a bleak future, or toxic thoughts that might have plagued their minds.

I sighed, as I collected my food from the lunch lady. Carrying my tray around, I saw the more familiar recruits. Anyone could clearly see how badly everyone took the news; Mikasa grew quieter than she already was, half of the time hiding her mouth behind her scarf. Ymir and Christa weren’t even there - most of the time, they spent whatever free time they could find with one another, alone, wanting nothing else except each other’s presence. Bertholdt seemed to be on the verge of losing his mind more often - he looked even more agitated than before. Armin seemed to have made himself out of glass - he looked so fragile; with his blue eyes glassy, weak, and fake, he all but looked as if he’d break any second. Even Eren was quiet; Eren, who usually had a lot to say in their lunch breaks - be it fights, strategies, or anything of the sort. His eyes had dulled ever since that day; no longer were they the bright green they had been before - now, they looked hollow, empty, defeated.

With slumped shoulders, I sat at a solitary table in the far corner, where the cafeteria doors opened. Seating myself, I knitted my fingers under my chin. Giving the place one more glance, I realized one person’s absence; I could make it out a bit too well - Jean’s absence.

Three days ago, he must have been the first one to go back, after we got the news, because as I had walked back to our dorms with everyone else, he was nowhere to be seen. I had even dared to stray behind a little bit, glancing around, trying to search for him somewhere - but he had literally vanished.  
The days after too, he had been practically invisible; while training, shooting, taking a break, and then training again, Jean Kirschtein was nowhere to be found. Sometimes I would see him in the dorms, but he would always be fast asleep, then. There were the good days, when sometimes I’d spy a mop of familiar brassy hair, or a pair of sharp, amber eyes - but I’d see nothing more than that. I’d never get to be with him, or merely talk to him.

_But then, why would he want to talk to you?_   a voice whispered in my mind.

Well, I couldn’t argue with that. We had been in a fight, after all. Images of that day still replayed in my mind; of how persistently he wanted to know if I was okay, and how venomously I had shouted at him to stop.

I had never wanted to shout at him; I had never wanted to accuse him like that - why would I want to hurt someone who actually cared enough to ask about me?

Nothing I could say could excuse what I had done - calling it just _'pent-up rage'_ or _'bottled-up emotions'_ would be unfair; both for Jean, and for me. And yet, nothing I could say could make it any better; because by how I had spoken, there was only a slim chance of him forgiving me. There was only a measly chance of our friendship to ever get well again.  
The thought _hurt_ ; with what short time we spent, our friendship had managed to bloom enough to call it something strong. He taught me things I could have never learned on my own; he was there passing me hope as easy as if it were his well-known smirks. Moreover - he _cared_.

And I fucking blew it all.

Shaking the thought away, I stared at my bowl of bland stew - now probably gone cold. Suddenly, all kinds of hunger left me. I didn’t want to eat anymore. Even when I knew I’d regret that decision the minute I’d leave the cafeteria, I couldn’t bring it in myself to eat.

_“But you do know you’re gonna have to survive in order to finish all these zombies.”_

I stilled all over; it was so sudden, how such a random memory entered my mind:  
 _“Everyone in this room is surviving; they would have been long-gone dead if it weren’t for their survival instincts. They know they have to survive in order to win.”_

It was Jean who had said that, a long, long time ago, when I had first arrived in the Western Wing - when I had gotten the news of me being the last person alive in Trost. Back then, it had hurt, but Jean was the one who helped me; I even remembered the words he had told me next - so simple, yet so important:

_“So, eat.”_   
_“Eat to survive.”_

I blinked, once, twice. I stared at my food again. No matter what damage I had done to our friendship, he was the one who made me strive to live. He was the one who pushed me on, to survive till today. He was the one who saved me, in that supermarket, damn it - _I can’t let that go to waste_ , I decided.

Picking up the spoon, I shoveled the stew in my mouth. I finished the whole bowl with an intensity I didn’t know I ever had. Something wet stung my eyes, too, but I was way past that to even care - I was too adamant to eat, to live, to survive. I had promised him that much. I had to honor it.

Just as I was slurping up the last few bits of stew, I heard a ragged voice whisper:

“To think we call these guys the ‘ _saviors of Humanity’_ - _bah_!”

I looked up, to see a pair of burly cadets, waiting for the lunch lady to serve them food. One of them crossed his thick arms across his chest almost haughtily, as he glanced around the placed. Together, the both of them eyed everything almost distastefully. As I swallowed, I cocked an eyebrow at them warily. _What’s their problem…?_

“If these guys can’t even hold up a fuckin’ fort, then why call ‘em our leaders?” one whispered.

“Yeah… I swear to God, these Commanders think they’re helping us. Hell, if anything, they’re throwing everything to the fuckin’ ground!” the other replied.

The bigger man sniffed the air. “I wouldn’t exactly entrust these shitheads we call commanders with my life - no thank you.”

The other man hummed in response. “At this rate, we’ll lose everything - and soon, at that.”

By the time they were done with their hushed dialogue, the lunch lady gave them their food. With bowed heads, they walked back to their seats.

Suddenly, the pit of my stomach felt hot. What they said made me angry; how could they blame the Corps so easily? Despite losing so badly, it was the Survey Corps who gave us a roof above our heads, a bed beneath us, and food for our stomachs. _I say you two learn some respect_ , I wanted to spit out. Did they even have the right to call the Survey Corps bad? A corporation that stood on pillars of good intentions?

_“Maybe the Survey Corps isn't so pure as we might have hoped…”_ a voice echoed in my mind, a voice as icy as a familiar glare.

I froze; could that be true? Could there be something impure lurking within their plans, plans we’ve called ‘ _good_ ’... almost by default?  
I shook my head to myself. No, that can’t be. It’s just my mind going on overdrive, I reassured myself. Soon enough, that shred of doubt left my mind.

Even so, I couldn’t help but glance warily at Annie; she only stared at her food, not giving the slightest bit of care for her surroundings. It almost seemed as if the bad news did nothing to her - almost.

As I walked back to the second phase of our training, I thought of ways I'd try improving myself. Maybe this time, I wouldn't suck too bad; I'd even try using what rules Jean taught me once! Maybe that way, I'd aim better. Probably, I'd hold the gun properly, too - _I just might improve_. I smiled at the thought.  
The hallway I walked through straightened, till the big doors of the training room came in my sight. The windows to my right brought in bright sunshine. I could even feel the heat penetrate me - it felt good to feel warm for once. When I looked to my right, I even saw a rich, blue sky, with a few tufts of white clouds.

When I inhaled deeply, I almost believed I could pick myself. I almost believed that I could get better-

-almost; until I saw a streak of black against the sky.

It was a dark, dark black, that poisoned the bright sky. It looked like a crooked finger, curling up into the sky and corrupting it with it's darkness.

My smile soured; instantly, I knew what it was - I knew where it came from.

" _The Western Wing has fallen_ ", the words boomed in my mind, reminding me of all that I had lost.

The booming never stopped; the words kept replaying, over and over. They haunted me for the whole day, drowning any warmth, or any hope I had felt back to a hopeless, hollow feeling in my chest. _You can't get back up_ , it seemed to be telling me. _You won't get better._

And I believed it.

 

* * *

 

_Darkness surrounded me, thick, dense, suffocating. I couldn’t see a thing. Making any sort of noise was impossible - anything I’d try uttering out would all fall into silence. My brain felt thick, too, as thick as the darkness._   
_Then, I felt something cold touch my right hand - cold, and clammy. But before I could even register that, the moist feeling was replaced by something hard - hard, rigid, strong. I held it tight, God knew why._

_Suddenly, red ripped through the black; an evil glint tore through the fabric of darkness before me, giving way to something else - please, let it be light, let it be a way out,_ please-

_But I found something else; a body lay before me. It was a simple human being; he could have been a civilian of Trost. But his body was covered with blood so thick it almost looked black. The man wasn’t dead, no; dead bodies couldn’t cry tears that drenched skin, mixing through red blood. One word seemed to have been etched over him -_ let me out.

_My brain told me to get down, reach for him, help him up - but my body did something else:_

_As if strings hung from my arms, I felt my right hand rise up high, higher, higher still, pausing just above the body. When I did that, I heard raspy giggles from behind me, the hushed, slippery voices crawling right under my skin, making the air around me shiver._

_What’s happening? I thought sluggishly._

_But then, I saw the sharp glint of red light against silver - against a blade;_

_A long, long blade, placed right in my hand._

_No._

_The giggles turned to unearthly guffaws._

_I shook my head - no, no, no. I tried pulling away my hand, trying to let go of the weapon I held, scared of what I’d end up doing - but my hand had a mind of it’s own._

_My hand fell, and the blade ripped through flesh._

_The man was screaming. I was screaming - stop, stop, stop - but my hand kept stabbing; on and on and on, I dug the blade deep into his gut, and deeper still. Blood gushed out of the helpless man, spattered all over my skin, the metallic taste falling right on my lips - and yet I didn’t stop. The man must have been long gone dead, and yet I slayed him over and over; he was nothing more than a rag doll, and I was mutilating it. I was appalled to feel the smile on my lips when I twisted the blade, almost- almost enjoying the feeling of flesh being cut sharply._

_The zombies were having the time of their lives; they laughed, they shrieked, they yowled - they urged me on, to kill, kill, kill._

_Stop, stop this,_ please-

 

Suddenly, moonlight forced its way through darkness, as I woke up.

I sat up, gasping. Moments passed by, with me absorbing the night’s silence, shaking like a leaf. I lifted my trembling fingers, staring at them in shock.

_Had I…_ I gulped dryly; had I killed an innocent man, with those hands? Had I lifted that blade up, and stabbed that man over and over? Had I done that? But- but I couldn’t even control myself, it couldn’t have been me-

_But you did do that,_ a voice whispered in my mind, _your weakness made you bend your will._

What- what have I become?

“It-it was only a… dream…” I whispered to myself, trying to make myself feel better, hugging myself.

But the tears still came.

* * *

 

That nightmare replayed in my mind’s eye almost every night; every night, I was given a weapon, every night I’d see a body laid before me helpless, ripe for the reaping - and every night, I was the one who’d reap them.

And at some point, my disgusting self even enjoyed it. More than a few times, I had felt a smile creep up my lips, enjoying what screams the innocent victim would utter, possibly even liking how the zombies pushed me on, with shouts and bouts of laughter. Worse was when I had _laughed_ with them - simply recalling them made me shudder.

It was hard to cut myself any slack; after what atrocities I had done, the simple task of looking at my reflection became too big a task. One glance at my skin, at my hands, at _myself_ reminded me of what I did, what I would do - of what I had become.

I became the one thing I feared the most - and I _hated_ it.

A week’s worth of training had almost blurred with one another. Taking part in said-training proved almost impossible; I slacked off, I couldn’t aim right, couldn’t punch, kick, or strike back with any force or sense of direction. I had gotten worse than before.

Even now, my breathing turned labored already, when everyone else didn’t stop at all. None of the others gave in, I noticed; none of the other recruits even paused for a breath’s worth of rest. They all tried their best to improve, to move forward, to pick themselves up, and fix what hurt they felt. Every other cadet seemed to be getting up from the damage they suffered;

While I _drowned_ in it.

I shook my head. _Stop being so fucking weak_ , I scolded myself. I looked at the worn out punching bag hanging in front of me. With hovering fists, I punched it once. It only moved half an inch.

_I could do even better than that_ , I thought. What had he taught me, once…?

_“I used my whole body, and concentrated all my energy into my fist.”_   
Yeah, Jean had taught me that, a long time ago, back in the Western Wing. It brought about a stab of nostalgia that stung my heart.

Licking my chapped lips, I tried again. I pulled my fist back, pouring any energy I had into my arm - and then struck the punching bag, harder.

But it only brought about the littlest of changes; I should have expected that much. Before, I had a will to fight, that used to exist in my chest - a place that now only feels empty. How could I win if I felt so hollow all the time?

I swore under my breath, brows knotting in worry; where did all my dedication go? Where did all the energy I once had, bottled up inside me, go to? What happened to it all? Why did I have to give it all up so easily?

_It's because you’re weak._

It's because I’m weak.

Without thinking, I punched the bag.

_I’m weak_. I punched it again, twice.

_I’ve always been weak_. I aimed a punch, then another, another, another.

_I’m always weak_ \- harder, harder, harder I struck, grunting heavily.

Sweat trickled down my skin, but I didn’t stop. I’m just weak; _weak, weak, weak, weak-_

I didn’t even register someone calling out my name:

“Marco! Marco- h-hey, _stop_!”

I finally did stop after that. I turned to my left, to see Bertholdt standing there, with a worried expression.

“H-hey,” he started, “Marco, stop doing that- you’re _bleeding_.”

I blinked like an owl, before glancing at my knuckles. He was right, I _was_ bleeding; the frail skin on my bones broke out, gruesomely so, blood oozing out of every scrape. I must have hit the bag hard.  
I scoffed at myself. I didn’t even feel a thing.

Bertholdt took my silence as a chance to speak, and so he did: “You should get that checked,” he said, stepping closer to me, “I’ll help you i-if you want-”

“I’m _fine_ ,” I said, but my tone turned venomous before it was too late. Bertholdt seemed taken aback by that; I cringed, mentally kicking myself.

_You ruined one friendship this way_ , I seethed at myself, _don’t ruin another one._

“I -I’m sorry,” I mumbled softly, “I’ll go to Petra right now... Thanks.”

Bertholdt smiled back. I was relieved to see that much, but I saw something else underneath his look - _pity_.

And I hated that.

Quickly, I turned around, making my way out of the training room - but as I did, my gaze fell on a pair of familiar amber eyes;

Eyes that stared right back at me.

For a moment, I could do nothing, except stare back at Jean. But then, his gaze fell on my knuckles - and they blew wide. When they looked back at me, something inside me hurt; that simple look showed so much concern - a caring nature I once threw away.  
And so I did the best thing I could do; I tore my gaze away, and dodged past him, half-walking, half-running out of the room like the coward I was.

Because I didn’t deserve that much care; I just didn’t.

Footsteps were all I could hear across the silent hallway. Panting, I quickened my pace, till I was half-running down the hall. I tried running away from what just happened. I ran, farther away from what damage I was about to inflict on another friend, from the reminiscence of a friendship I once ruined so royally. Most of all, I tried forgetting that concerned look he had shown - I don’t deserve that, Jean, understand that. _Why are you making it so hard…?_

“Is… is that you, Marco?” a woman called out.

I looked up, and just before me, stood Petra Ral, our “ _caretaker_ ”; with a neat apron hugging her waist, she stood there, looking at me with a look of familiarity. Seeing her again, I tried smiling a little.

That comforting look of hers soured into dread just as quick.

She gasped: “What have you done to your hands!”

“Oh,” I stuttered, “U-uhm, this is- this is nothing-”

“Oh, it’s anything but _‘nothing’_ , Mister! Follow me right now, I’ll treat it well,” she demanded, strutting back to the hospital ward. And slowly, I obeyed; with my head bowed, I followed her. The way she ordered me to let her fix me up, it sounded threatening - yet in a comforting way.

Nonetheless, I smiled a little.

 

Soon, Petra patched me up quite well. With an antiseptic, she cleaned up all the blood that had gathered over my wounds; it had stung like a bitch, but biting on my lower lip hard helped me keep myself from screaming.  
“Well, you needed the lesson!” was what Petra had said, when she saw me on the verge of losing it. “This’ll keep you from hurting yourself more.”

After she wrapped my knuckles with a thin, supple white cloth, I sighed in relief. The soothing cream she used really helped me get some semblance of something other than pain.

“Thanks, Petra!” I said, “Now I can totally go back for training-”

But she cut me off with just one look; like a thunder clap, she snapped her tawny eyes at me. That look was enough for me to still all over.

She shook her head: “Oh, no, no, no, Marco. You’re not going anywhere - you’re staying here.”

My eyes blew wide. “ _Here_? But- but what about training-”

“Training can wait for one day,” she reasoned, resting her hands on her hips. That always gave her the upper hand.

“B-but Petra-”

“No _'but's_ , Mister! I’m not just a nurse here - I’m the caretaker! I’m doing what’s right to take care of you guys. So, you’re resting right here till training’s over - final.”

I groaned, rubbing my hands over my face. Trying to win in an argument with Petra was the most futile thing anyone could do, everyone said; right next to facing a zombie with no weapon. So I did what I was told, though reluctantly; I seated myself on an empty stretcher just behind me, backed against the wall, sighing wistfully.

She was washing up her surgical instruments, when she noticed how dejected I looked. She said, “Y’know, the other guys would have loved taking a break once in awhile - so much so, I’ve seen Connie purposefully get injured just to sleep for a few more hours.”  
Spreading her instruments on a silvery tray, she dusted her hands, and sat on a chair in front of me. Crossing her arms, she asked, “What’s making you want to train so much?”

I cocked my head to the side. I thought of all the ways I could answer that question:

_‘I liked training’_?  
 _‘I want to help save Humanity’_?  
 _‘I can’t do anything else’_?

_‘It’s the one thing that helps me forget everything that pains me’_?

_‘It’s the only thing that keeps me from dwelling into all of my past regrets’_?

_‘It makes me forget that I’m weak’_?

“Is it about what happened to the Western Wing…?” she asked timidly.

I found myself nodding, and yet…

“Well, it’s- it’s not only that…” I started, unsure. I tried to pick the choicest of words, “It’s just- training makes me feel, as if... As if I’m... _useful_ for something.”

A pause silenced the air around us. Suddenly, the whole room felt quite stuffy. I picked at my bandages, deciding whether my words were a whole truth, or half a lie. Even I was not sure anymore.

After another moment, I heard Petra sigh. “What makes you say that?” she asked.

I sniffed the air, knotting my eyebrows at my forehead. I crossed my arms too, mirroring the lady in front of me. _Well,_ I asked myself, _what makes me say that?_

I tried my luck: “Well, the thing is that- that… All these years, I’ve managed to stay alive on my own out there, but… but I don’t know…”

I sighed tiredly, pulling up my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. Placing my chin on top of them, I tried finishing myself:

“It’s just,” I said, “I’ve never felt... victorious. Here, with all these other guys, we’re all- we’re all fighting. A-and, its so much better. It makes me feel as if I’d actually win for a change.”

I waited for some kind of response from her; maybe a nod, maybe a sigh - maybe even a scoff, at the least. But for a long, long moment, she said nothing. I bit my lip; _what would she say…?_

Curious, I glanced at her. My eyes widened at what I saw;

She didn’t say anything. She only… _smiled,_  just shaking her head. What the hell…?

“He wasn’t wrong about that...” she said.

I blinked at her. “ _‘H-he’_?”

“I mean _Jean_ ,” she said.  
My voice caught in my throat. Jean? What did he have to say about me? This couldn’t mean anything good, then - not after what fight we had gone through-

But she continued, laughing, “He didn’t tell anything personal - don’t worry about that! But he always told me how you were different from the rest; always the honest guy, the nobler one. Really, he thought you were some hoax, in the beginning - but I guess he was right!”

I didn’t even realize how badly I was blushing; did Jean Kirschtein actually say all of that about me? Did he actually call me different, noble...?

“He’s been worrying sick for you, to be honest,” she continued, “and rightfully so. Something's not quite right about you, Marco...”

I winced, looking away. I started gnawing at my lip again, a bad habit.

Taking my silence as an answer, she sighed, raising her hands up.  
“Well, it’s not my right to push the truth out of you, but you don’t have to stay so restrained all the time…”

I scoffed, “I’ve been hiding all this time, y-you can’t expect me to just- just open up so easily,”

And it was true; living off years with not a single human companion could do things to a man; it could ruin the mind, it could tire the soul. It could hurt someone, till the simple task of opening up to someone becomes the biggest risk anyone could take.

Suddenly, Petra dragged her chair closer to the bed I sat on. With a humph, she crossed her arms, and said, “Well, that doesn’t mean you can’t change.”

I quirked an eyebrow at her. “Change?”

“Well, yeah, change!” she nodded, “You were saved from that market, Marco. You were given another shot at living. If anything, you gotta try making something out of it, right?”

Her words made such perfect sense, I couldn’t help but stutter before speaking. And yet…

“You make it sound so easy…” I sighed.

“It _is_ that easy - but it’s the hardest thing you can do if you do it on your own.”

I didn’t have a chance to say anything, for she continued:

“Why do you think you have these recruits around you? Why do you think you have these guys you call friends, who’re always around you? It’s because they’re here to _help_ you. Not only in the battlefield, but when you’re fighting a battle of your own. Eren, Armin, Reiner- _Jean_... they’ll help you; you just gotta ask.”

“Asking Jean isn’t quite part of the plan, anymore...”

I heard Petra sigh before me. “Y’know, Jean might be a big, impulsive hothead, but he’s noticed his mistake.”

I met her gaze, surprised.

She nodded. “Yeah, he understood his mistake of forcing the truth out of you, back then - and he’s sorta kicking himself for it. But it only shows how much he cares.”

I clenched my fists. It’s something I don’t… I _don’t-_

“And I don’t blame you for how you had reacted; most would have done far worse than that,” she told me, “But Marco, you have to see how much he’s trying to help you - so why not let him, even if a little?”

Again, I didn’t reply straight away. Tired, I closed my eyes, resting my forehead against my knees. _It’ll be over soon_ , I told myself, _just keep it in. Keep it all in._

“It’ll be easier for you to win if you got help,” she said softly, “That way, you’d stop hurting so much.”

I pretended I didn't hear that - though my mind caught them too well.

 

As the evening grew darker, Petra allowed me to leave. I thanked her over and over for her concern, and for her helping me. She waved them all off with a wide smile, deeming it her duty. Smiling myself, I bid her farewell, before stepping out of the stuffy room - I didn’t turn around to meet her gaze, however.

I retraced my steps back through the countless hallways. Walking back, I should have been thinking of what reasons I’d make up to excuse everyone for my absence. I should have been thinking of a good meal in my stomach, in the company of good people. I should be feeling happy, with my wounds fixed;

But my mind was a complete mess.

_Why, Marco, why?_ I begged myself. Why did I have to be so restrained, after all? Why did I have to find it so hard to just seek help - to just get better? It would be easier that way, right? Shouldn’t I at least try?

But I’m _weak_.

That was something Petra could not understand. That I was weak; my weakness made me want to train harder, my weakness made me this fragile and disturbed. My weakness made me afraid of sharing my worries with my friends - for what would happen if I opened up myself for someone, only to be thrown away just as quick? What then? Was I strong enough to even take that risk? I’d be finished, then.

Better safe than sorry. Or destroyed.

I could never deserve someone who cared as deeply as Jean; that was another thing Petra couldn’t get. I threw it away once - I’d only end up doing that again. And he didn't deserve that, at least. He didn't deserve such a golden character of his to be wasted on someone like me.  
I didn’t have any choice in this - in this battle, I was alone. And I was losing. No one could possibly help me.

All because of my fucking inadequacy.

My distressed mind accompanied me through the whole journey, till I wasn’t even sure where I was going. Taking senseless directions, and sloppy turns led me to one room, a recognizable place - the training room.

Crates filled with guns were still backed against the wall. The once-spotless targets didn’t seem so new anymore, most of them already studded with numerous bullet holes. I leaned against the door frame. They had trained quite well, by the looks of it.  
With slow steps, I stepped inside. Bare, old and musty walls passed by me, gone grey with age. The echoing resonances of my footsteps died out just as I stopped right at the center of the room. Beside me, I saw a crate; it must have been for the Officer himself.

Ducking low, I pulled out a random hand gun. I checked it’s magazine; like always, it was filled with bullets. Right ahead of me, I spied a single target; the others that stood beside it were too old, too damaged to even use. But that one was clear, it was new, fresh. I licked my lips.

Loading up my gun, I pointed it at the target. I lined the nose right with the red dot. I inhaled, just like someone taught me once. As I exhaled, I fired.

_Boom_ ; the bullet flew by, with a loud echo. But when I looked up, I saw that the bullet only scraped past the bigger circle outside. I noticed how hard my hand shook.

Swallowing, I fired again. Even then, it didn’t hit the mark. Again; it missed the bullseye by inches. Again; it scraped past the target altogether. Again; it missed. Again, again, again-

And it _missed_.

By the time I had drained out all the bullets, I was panting hard through my nose. Smoke lifted off of the nose of the gun, twirling in front of my vision. Yet, through those light fumes, I could see that red dot - glaring at me, mocking me.

My eye twitched. There was a pause, a silence - and then a scream came, so loud and agonizing. Moments later I realized that it was _me_ screaming, _me_ shouting, _me_ in pained torment - all I could see was red, pain, anguish. I threw the gun against the target with all the force I could muster. My throat raw, I clenched fingers through my hair. Frustration wracked my body, tired, angry at how weak I was, at how useless I was - _why me?_ Why did I have to be so useless? _Wouldn’t I be better off dead-?_

“Imagine if you’d put that much force in your punches,” someone said.

I snapped my head back at the entrance - there, I saw a familiar man, leaning against the door frame, with a pair of eyes so golden, I’d forgotten they even glowed like that.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my mouth parched.

Jean shrugged, looking at his feet. “I heard gunshots - and then someone screamed, so I had to look it up.”

I glanced at the target before me, and winced; damn, I truly did hit it hard - it even made a fucking dent. Suddenly, I felt heat creep up my neck in embarrassment. _God, Jean had to see that,_ I thought, cringing.

“S-sorry for that,” I mumbled, picking at my bandages.

Another pause punctuated the air - this time, more uncomfortable.

And then it broke, as Jean asked:

“How’s your hand?”

I glanced at my knuckles. Subconsciously, a giggle escaped my mouth. “I just over-trained, it seems. W-well, it _was_ my fault, I didn’t even fucking notice, _heh-_ ”

“Y’know, you should stop kicking yourself so much.”

I stilled all over at those words. But I dared not look at him, or meet his eyes- not know, not like this.

“It’s wrong of you to think that way,” Jean told me. Slaps of leather boots against marble was all that I could hear within the silent room, as he walked towards me. As if I had been glued to place, I could not bring it in myself to move. I couldn't even breathe.

“T-think how?” I rasped.

But Jean heard it - he heard it well. His sharp footsteps fell into silence when he stopped. I could feel him standing beside me, and yet I couldn’t even look at him.

“You think as if you’ll never be better,” he began, “and that the only way you’ll become stronger is by- by overworking-”

“It’s easy to say that, Jean,” I countered weakly, but he was having none of it.

“Come on, Marco! _Look_ at yourself!” he demanded, “You’re so far down your own rabbit hole you won’t even see what’s the reality of the situation. You listen to me; the truth is that you’re not okay. You’re not, because you’re stuck with the fact that all you have to is get stronger - no matter what the cost may be.”

I started shaking my head, snarling. “Stop-”

“No, Marco, no. You think fighting on your own is the only thing that’ll make you strong, but the truth is - it’s only gonna make you weaker-”

I had had enough.

“You know _nothing_ , Jean!” I snapped at him, with a voice as sharp as a knife. I met his sharp gaze. It was enough for Jean to shut up, for I spoke:

“You say I beat myself up too much?” I seethed, “You say that I’m too far down my own rabbit hole? It’s so fucking easy for you to say that; then _you_ tell me. _Tell me-_ tell me how should I get better? How should I fight this, when all I have ever done is run away and hide like a coward?!”

Yet, I wasn’t done:

“Understand, that-that- that I’m like this. I’ll never ask for help. I’ve been weak like that - a-always have been. Maybe I’ll never get stronger - maybe I’ll just lose this fight. Just accept that! So just- stop rooting for a wreck that's bound to fail - _please_. ”

I was panting by the time I was done. My chest heaving, I ran a hand through my hair. And then suddenly, I realized what I just said; what have I done, what have I done, _what have I done-_

Why did I shout at him again? Did I possibly end our friendship? Did I ruin it to the point of destruction?

_What have I done?_

Right then, I wanted nothing else but to escape myself altogether - leave this skin I hated so much.

Why did I have to ruin everything I cared for?

“I-I’ll leave,” I mumbled. Quickly, I gathered whatever pieces I had left, and walked past Jean. He stood rooted in his place, but I walked on, escaping the damage I did as soon as I could.

Just like the coward I was.

When I was a few feet away from the door, I whispered, “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”. Tears were already brimming my eyes, but I heard him speak:

“So you’re saying you’ll lose? That you’re... giving up?”

That made me stop on my tracks. _Giving up…?_

I didn’t even get the chance to turn around and look at him, for a pair of hands grabbed my shoulders hard. In a blink of an eye I was pushed against a wall. My back hit it with a loud thud. But before I could even groan, a pair of bright, burning amber eyes trapped me.

“ _You will not lose_ ,” Jean hissed at me, fingers digging into my shoulders. “You _won’t_ give up - you promised that you’d survive, _remember?!_ ”

It felt as if I had swallowed my tongue; I didn’t know what to say.

“You’ve been living all this while, and _now_ you say you want out?”

“Saying it like that won’t make me- any - _ah_ \- any better,” I wheezed, fighting his death grip.

“Cut all that crap,” he said, “You say you’re so weak all the time - you haven’t even seen yourself when you fight zombies.”

I grunted, “The first time you saw me with zombies, I was running away from one.”

Jean barked up a laugh - a soft gust of breath against my skin, smelling slightly of liquor. But it wasn’t pungent.

“And the last time I saw you with zombies, you managed to outwit them all with a _blast_ , remember?” was all he whispered.

I stilled all over, gaping at him.

Jean gripped my collars, pressing me against the wall harder. There was only a breath’s distance between us; from here, I could make out tiny flecks of green in his eyes, something I never noticed before.

“You keep on saying that the only way you’ll ever be strong is if you’re alone,” he breathed, shaking his head, “it doesn’t have to be that way...”

His grip slackened for a moment. By instinct, I took the chance; I kicked his feet, making him skid. As he was about to topple, I grabbed for his collars. Turning around, I slammed him against the wall - this time, trapping _him_ under me.  
It was all a second’s work, and yet I was panting as if I had been fighting all my life. What was Jean saying…?

Instead of seething, however, Jean laughed.

“See that?” he wheezed, “That’s- _that’s_ where you’re strong - that’s where you can’t see that you’re anything but weak!”

I froze. _What is he..._

“When I saved you back at the market, I didn’t see a man running away; I saw a man who had the fuckin’ balls to stare at a zombie right in the eye, while they were cornered. That wasn’t what I’d call weak, Marco,” he said, staring up at me, with eyes so earnest, honest, true - it made me shake my head.

_What does he mean-_

My breath shuddered out of me, as I shivered. My hands pressed against his shoulders, but weakly. I looked down at my feet, my vision going dizzy.

A long, long pause ensued later. It wasn’t uncomfortable, or agitating. It wasn’t anything; it was silent, and it was enough for me to… to understand.

After a while, Jean spoke again; not in an angry voice, not in a voice like acid - he spoke softly, like I had never heard him before:

“What you called _'running away'_ wasn’t a weakness; it was your survival instincts. You were living, back then. If you could do that then, then you can sure as hell do that now. But… this time around...” he laughed in the end, another gust of air over the top of my head.

And then, I felt a warm hand over my shoulder.

I looked up, only to be met by his eyes; eyes that glowed so brightly - and so surely, of a bravery he must have seen in me, of a bravery I might have held.

“ _This_ time,” he continued, “you won’t be alone. We’re here to help you survive. We’ll help each other survive. That was what the Corps was made for; to win together.”

What he said next brought tears to my eyes:

“You might have been the last survivor of Trost, but you aren’t alone. Not anymore.”

A few tears must have fallen down my cheeks, but I was way past that to care. Jean sounded so… sure of the fact that I wasn’t alone; that I shouldn’t feel isolated, for I have my fellow recruits - my friends waiting for me ahead. Was I truly not alone?

“H-how can you be so sure?” I whispered out my concern.

Jean scoffed. He ruffled the top of my head in a friendly manner, before professing:

“That’s what friends do, right? Friends are always there for each other.”

I froze again - at what he said again.

_Yeah,_ I thought, cracking a soft smile, _that’s what friends do._

That day, something tugged inside me hard - and it kept pulling me towards Jean. It had always done that towards him. Before, I couldn’t understand what it was; before, giving it a name felt a bit too early. By default, my choice was always _“friendship"_.

Yet, as I laid over my side late at night, staring at a familiar mop of disheveled blonde hair, I finally understood:

I was falling for the man who saved me, countless of times. I was falling for Jean Kirschtein.

* * *

 

I’ve always believed that liking someone was something special; like tender touches that tingled, like their voices sounding like melodies, like sneaky glances that lingered a bit too long - just like in the movies.

Someone should have told me how it was quite the opposite.

Liking someone was anything but like the movies. It wasn’t _‘special’_ , it was intense; the slightest of brushes of skin against skin never tingled - it _seared_. His voice never sounded like a soft melody, but a song so addicting, I’d find it replaying in my mind over and over. And what started as _‘sneaky’_ glances had turned into longing stares, whenever he wouldn’t notice (Officer Mike noticed, however - I always tried avoiding his glare whenever he’d find out).

But there was no denying it - I was falling for Jean, and I was falling for him hard.

Half of the time, I had to remind myself that this little crush couldn’t go any farther, for there was only a slim chance he’d ever reciprocate it. I always had to shake that thought away whenever I’d think of it, deeming it simply stupid, futile. But whenever I’d catch a glimpse of a pair of sharp eyes, and an infamous smirk, I couldn’t help but ponder over the possibility.

But it didn’t bother me, because whatever fight we had been through the past few days had finally finished. Thankfully, whatever wounds we had inflicted on one another seemed to have been healed overnight, till we were okay - scarred, to some extent, but okay.

“Ah, I’m sure beat!” Jean professed loudly one day, stretching his arms over his head like a lazy cat, as the pair left the training room.

“We’ve still got three hours of training left, y’know,” I stated, turning round a hallway.

Jean groaned at that, to which I laughed; he hated training like a child would hate going to school. It was downright funny to see him like that.

“You had to go on and remind me about that, Marco?”

“What can I say? I’m eloquent that way.”

“You must be fun at parties,” was all Jean muttered, digging his hands in his pockets tiredly.

I giggled at him, punching his shoulder in response. He shoved me playfully, until the two of us fell in soft laughter. I tried not to notice how warm his hands were; I tried hard not to notice how he’d drag his hands over my shoulders just long enough for me to feel a blush creep up my cheeks. I definitely tried my hardest not to notice how he spared a glance at me, from the corner of his eye. (Maybe I was doing the same, too - _most probably_.)

Suddenly, Jean stopped walking. Curious, I stopped too, throwing a questioning look at him.

He then slapped forehead. “Fuck, I just remembered- I gotta go catch up with Petra, she’d called me, y’know, I’ll be killed if I don’t go…”

“Ah, now we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“Hell no - I’ve still got some motherfuckin’ zombies to slay!”

Chuckling, I nodded, “Sure thing. See you later, then.”

“See ya!” he waved back.

And with that, Jean hurried down the hallway on his own, whistling a tune along with.

I shook my head, to myself. _Damn, to think I’m falling for such a dork_ , I thought.

I glanced at my watch; I still had plenty of time till the next session of training. What should I do? A simple stroll through the place wouldn’t hurt, I decided.  
And so, with my hands dug in my own pockets, I walked on slowly, with a tune stuck in my head - the same one Jean whistled through puckered lips. I laughed to myself. I was doing that more often now. _That didn’t feel too bad_ , I thought. Only a few days ago, we were so far apart - and now, we were okay.

Come to think of it, the two of us weren’t just okay - in fact, we turned out to be _more_ than okay.

Not that I was complaining - hell no. Over the passage of a few days, Jean and I had become almost inseparable; we ate together, we trained together, and spent any free time together. Once again, he revived all fighting lessons I had seemed to forgotten over the days - _“you’ve slacked off, Bodt!”_ Jean would always comment, to which I’d give him a good smack up his head. Soon, I was already picking up myself again, wanting to fight another day.  
Even then, sometimes, it would get hard; many nights, I would wake up with sweat over my skin, my breath ragged, and inhumane screams of the dead echoing within my skull. Many times, I felt so lost and beaten, I couldn’t find the courage in me to get up, and survive.

But this time, I had something else; this time, I knew I had people like Jean who’d help me. This time, he was the one who would pick me up, and help me get better. It was as if I had finally found the courage in me to train again, with all the stamina I once believed I’d never hold again. Finally, I was actually looking forward to the next training session - it felt good to finally get my legs burning with that energy again.

My long, winding journey led me to the Main Area. But then, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.

I stopped walking. Looking at my left side, I saw another hallway, just like any other hallway HQ-2 had. The white lights placed on the ceiling flickered on and off, while most of them didn’t even work anymore. It gave the whole alley an eerie look. Something about that place wasn’t… right.  
I gulped. Instinctively, I walked through it. Nothing else looked out of the ordinary; there were wooden doors lining the walls at long intervals, same as any other alley. Though I noticed how those doors were much older; when I squinted at one right next to me, I could see the edges wear away. Most of them had chunks and jagged pieces missing. It even gave off a funky smell of age. I shuddered.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps. I stopped, turning around.

The hallway behind me was empty, void of any existence. Yet, why did it feel as if someone were… _watching_ me?

Shrugging the thought away, I walked on, deeper and deeper into the strange hallway.

I stopped again; this time, out of all the closed doors, I saw one door slightly ajar. There was someone inside. But who…?

Slowly, I edged closer, closer still, till the door was just an arm’s distance away. I knew my moves - some of them. Maybe I could beat them if they were any intruder; our enemy could be anyone, right?

But before I could make any other decision, I heard a shuffle; then I heard the rattling of a box, a strangled scream, and a loud _thud_.

I blinked. This couldn’t be any intruder - they seemed too… clumsy.

Holding the door knob, I wrenched it open. And there, I saw not an intruder, but someone really familiar;

It was _Armin_ \- and he was buried underneath a whole heap of books and scrolls.

“A-armin?!”

Instantly, I bent down, hauling all of the books off of him, giving him less chances of any serious injury as I could.

“ _H-hey!_ ” he said - more like gurgled out, in pain.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was just- trying to find some- _ow-_ ” he yowled, as an old corner of a book poked him in the eye, “s-some book, to read.”

As I helped him up, dusting off any other bits of paper and dust off of him. But I couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow at him.

I asked, incredulous, “A book?”

The tips of his ears grew red, visible even in the dim light. “W-well, the Western Wing had a library, too, so I supposed they had one here. T-this door had “ _books_ ” written over it - and it was open - so I had to give it a try!”

Before he’d continue any further, I asked, “It was open before?”

Armin nodded. “Yeah, it was - but I don’t understand who’d open it. This place hasn’t got much importance…”

I ducked, picking up a few parchments of paper off the ground. Each of them had a film of dust over them. _They must be really old_ , I thought, blowing them clean.

Armin coughed, waving a hand over his nose. “This place’s old, too,” he told me through his pinched nose, “Why would someone wanna get in this place?”

“There must be _something_ here…” I said. The few scrolls I opened, were nothing but old and abandoned blueprints; designs of abandoned models, left-out buildings and whatnot. But why were they here? And why was someone curious enough to leave this place open? The strangeness of it all bugged me.

I plucked one other piece of paper off the ground. This wasn’t any normal piece; it had a map drawn over it.

I showed it to Armin. “What’s this?”

He squinted at it hard. Holding the flimsy map in his hands, he said, “It’s a map, alright. What- what does it say…?”

I squinted at the topmost edge of the paper. It read; _'Sewage works: Trost.'_

“ _‘Sewage Works: Trost’_ hm?” Armin said, rubbing his chin. “It was shut down, when the zombies had attacked Trost, if I recall…”

I hummed, staring at the entire web work of Trost’s sewage system; it seemed really old, much older than when Trost was attacked by the zombies.

“But this is much older,” I said, “Is this some older project?”

After a thoughtful pause, Armin clicked his fingers, “Yeah! There was one before our current ones, but some kind of blast had ruined half of it, so they had to rebuild the whole thing - this one must be the original one, I guess...”

Lifting his finger, he traced a single line from within the other intricately interwoven mesh work: “If I recall properly, it must be this one. The damage was pretty big, too; when the center of it all collapsed, they had to redo the sides, too.”

I stared at the line Armin traced intently; I had been hiding within Trost ever since the zombies came. Once upon a time, I had all the different locations remembered by heart. If I knew any better…

“Wait, Armin,” I butt in, “isn’t this bit of the pipe running right in the center of the city?”

“Yeah, actually…” he nodded, “But why do you ask…?”

Like a loud thunderclap, an idea burst in my mind.

“I think I know a better way out of HQ-2…” I whispered to myself, running a hand through my hair.

Armin’s blue eyes widened in surprise: “W-what do you mean?”

I fed my idea into Armin’s mind; the idea would seem far fetched to most, an idea that had too many risks - and yet, it was _something_. If we had to leave HQ-2, we couldn’t do that by road again, not after what we had seen while coming in HQ-2.

Yet...

“Marco,” Armin said, after I told him everything I could, “You do know how much the zombies have evolved-”

“This isn’t about them evolving,” I countered, “This is about a chance of outsmarting them, for once.”

That phrase felt so foreign on my tongue. _Could we truly outsmart them, the zombies?_

But it felt fucking exhilarating to say it out loud.

Armin must have felt the same, for me smiled, “T-this would be a game changer...”

“And we-”

“-We should tell the Commanders,” the blond butt in.

I stopped myself short: _tell them?_

I stuttered, “B-but this is no refined plan, yet-”

“But it’s _something_ , Marco!” he insisted, “It's a chance to finally get an upperhand over those zombies! We can’t risk any more time - we have to go now.”

“ _Now?_ ”

“Yes; _now_!” he confirmed. He tugged at my sleeve really hard - hard enough for me to topple out of the cramped little room, but before I could fall, Armin held me up - and kept on dragging me, till the two of us were running.

“Armin, slow down-”

“No can do! We might just be able to win, for once!”

As unlikely as the thought seemed, I couldn’t help but grin - it sure felt fucking exhilarating.

We were running as fast as lightning, dodging hallways, passing door after door, feet slapping against marbled floors hard. Armin didn’t let go of my arm, and I didn’t fight it anymore. He was right, after all; we didn’t have much time - the sooner the Commanders knew, the better.

One floor after the other, we climbed up the stairs. Higher and higher we went, up till the Fourth floor - that was where the Commanders were.

I should have known that that floor was the most heavily fortified floor, too.

Just as our feet landed on the fourth floor, a pair of guards caught us.

“Where’re you headin’, kid?” one asked, his hands gripping our arms tight.

Armin stuttered: “We-we’ve got something for the Commander-”

The other guard sniffed. “No can do, pipsqueak! You’s two better leave right now!”

“But this is about our survival!” the blond demanded, trying to pry their hands off of himself, but they didn’t budge one bit.

“Bugger off already!” one said, “Or we’ll have to use unnecessary force!”

They started dragging us right off, away from the Commander’s office.

But one voice stopped it all.

“What’s with the ruckus here?!” I heard someone cry out. It was a sharp voice, like a whip.

The man walked out of a door, and revealed himself to be Commander Levi.

He wore a simple black shirt, folded till the elbows. But only he could make a look so simple seem so intimidating; he just stared at all four of us, his expression deadly calm.

“What are you two doing here?” he asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

“W-we, uh- we-” Armin stuttered out. He was in no shape to reply, not with such tall, huge men blocking him entirely.

Out of desperation, I was the one who spoke up; I wrenched free of their hold, raised the map in my hand, and professed:

“We might have a way to leave HQ-2 with the least casualties - C-commander!”

Even that was enough to catch his attention; his once deadly cool expression faltered for the slightest of moments, his steely eyes glazing all over. Even the guards slackened for a second, seemingly out of surprise.

Just as quick, Commander Levi recovered.

“And you think this’ll actually work?” he questioned.

I gulped dryly - but I couldn’t give that moment up: “I-it might, if you look into it, S-sir.”

He took another long moment, judging the two of us. Forever passed by with not a single dialogue. Then, with a raise of his hand, he said:

“Leave the cadets, guards. You two, come with me.”

He was already turning around, making his way towards his office. Finally, though reluctantly, the guards let us go. With wary glances, they resumed their patrol. I looked to my right, to see Armin, looking back at me.

With a firm nod, we both followed the Commander.

The pair of us followed him into a sparse, rectangular room. In the center, stood a long table, running lengthwise the room. All kinds of maps, papers, and scrolls spread over its surface haphazardly. And beyond, a screen covered the entire wall, with the map of Trost projected over it. Red Xs, and jagged blue lines marked most of it’s streets and sites.  
And at the head of the table, sat Commander Erwin.

I physically stuttered; his presence had this solidity to it, as if he were made entirely of steel. The way he held himself, with squared shoulders, a firm stance, and an even firmer voice… It sent a strong impression to anyone in his presence, a daunting impression. That was all but necessary, in a world like ours.

Commander Levi walked up to Commander Erwin. Bending a little, he muttered something in his ear.

It must have been out plan, for even he froze.

Then, he stared at us, with hard eyes. After a long, thoughtful stare, he said, “So, you two have a plan that could potentially let us escape HQ-2 easily, with the least casualties?”

Slowly, Armin and I nodded.

Commander Erwin suddenly got up. Knitting his hands behind his back, he walked up to us. He told us, “Well, I’m willing to listen. Please, share your efforts with us.”

Armin threw me a look. I looked at the map in my hands, gripping it tight.

With one big inhale, I walked towards the table. Unrolling the entire map, I laid it over the tabletop, wiping away dust and dirt. By then, both the Commanders had walked closer to me, watching the map I unrolled over my shoulder.

With a dry gulp, I told them the entire plan. I fell flat and vague at some points, where Armin butted in and helped me pick my speech. Soon enough, both Commanders weren’t slacking off; they were listening quite attentively, nodding at any details I give. By the end of it, Commander Levi was just staring at the map in thought. I bit my lip; could this plan work, or was it bound to be just another failure?

Commander Levi was the first one to break the silence:

“But most of this area has been reinfected with zombies. If we go there again, wouldn’t there be just as many casualties as before?”

“B-but Commander,” Armin replied, “We won’t be going in head-on. We’ll be adopting the same principle as we did last time - we’ll be dodging them, only this time, we'll do it better."

Commander Levi nodded. But then, Commander Erwin spoke up:

“But then again, are we entirely sure there are no zombies there at all?”

This time, I replied, “Back when I was still in Trost, I always hid there in the sunlight, alone. Whenever I did hide there, no zombie ever attacked me. I-if anything, we’d only suffer lesser losses...”

Commander Erwin pondered over that for a while, as he rubbed his chin. He turned around, walking towards the map of Trost. He seemed to have been staring at one mark - the large _S_ in the center, marking the Scientific Wing of the Survey Corps. That was where we had to go. _This seemed to be the only way possible…_

“This could work,” Commander Erwin suddenly confessed.

Armin and I snapped our visions at him, but he didn’t meet our gaze; he still stared at the map. But that didn’t stop him from continuing:

“We’ll have to refine this plan a little, but the idea is quite… quite good. It might actually work.”

I couldn’t help but sigh in relief at that - so did Armin.

“We might actually get one step ahead of the zombies with this plan…” he said, “We have a chance of outsmarting them this time - no matter how slim it seems.”

I clenched my hands in fists. But it wasn’t in worry; it was with a fire that burned in the pit of my stomach. It was a heat I never knew I’d ever feel again, ever since the Western Wing fell. Suddenly, I felt a smile tug at my lips.

Could this work? Did we actually have a chance to beat the zombies - no matter how thin? Could we actually win?

It felt like it.

 

* * *

 

_Darkness covered everything around me. There was nothing I could see, nothing I could hear, nothing I could feel-_

_Except for something solid, heavy, in my right hand._

_I held it tight - tighter than before. I almost knew what was coming for me; there would be black, and then red, ripping through to reveal a helpless body I’d have to slay. And there was nothing I could do - those inhumane creatures had a hold of me. I was their puppet, I was helpless, hopeless._

_Suddenly, I saw red - a bright, blinding red. I waited, waited for Hell to approach me, in the form of blood, gore, screams, and pain._

_But I felt torture through something else._

_As I walked forward, I saw the shadow of a body on the floor - just like any other victim I had hurt before. This one was a man. I walked closer; the red glare cut through his hard jaw, his high cheekbones, his straight nose, his bright eyes…_

_I gasped. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe-_

_And then I screamed; I screamed, I shouted, let me out, let me out, I can’t do this, I_ won’t _-_

“N-no!” I shouted.  
  
It was then that I realized - it was a dream. It was all a dream-

_But I had to make sure._

Incoherent, I scrambled up on my feet. I tripped, but I didn’t stop myself; I looked around me, searching bed after bed. He had to be somewhere, is he okay-

And there, there he was; just a few beds across, he slept peacefully. His hair were a mess once again, and he was snoring softly.

Never has a look as simple as that given me such peace.

A sigh of relief shuddered out of me. I fell to my knees, wheezing. I held my face in my hands, trying to calm myself; _inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale._

What had I seen? Why did I have to see that?

My friend… Someone so close to me, and I had to see them like that…

The tears came unbidden. They fell, uncontrolled. And I sobbed, muffling them under my fist, cracking under what I had to fucking see-

I had to see the one person so close to me, lay lifeless, blood covering ever inch of them. I had to see Jean, right before me - possibly dead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUUUUUUN!   
> Im sorry marco had to go thru so much pain orz
> 
> This chapter had to be longer but it got too long, so its divided into two parts! I hope the plot's thickened enough!
> 
> Let me know how i did! Any comment, or even constructive criticism - im open for anything! I love hearing from you guys! <3
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](http://kirschtrash.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/kirschtrash) for more! See you guys soon! <3


	8. Unravel II

“Is it just me, or have you started smoking a bit too much lately?”

“What do you mean ‘too much’? This is my first one in weeks!”

“You literally smoked here just two days ago.”

“S-same difference!”

“Jean, for crying out loud!” I sighed exasperatedly. He and I were seated out on the terrace, with the warm sunshine beating upon our faces, and the chilly air cooling our skin. Despite it being such a peaceful, sunny morning - quite out of the ordinary, I had to add - there was nothing I wanted to do more than bash my head against the railing. What else would you do if you met someone who was oblivious to common sense?

I ended up rubbing my temples instead. Sighing through my nose, I said, “Look, I get it that I’m not one to judge, so I’m sorry. But considering how we’ve always had to _run_ away from zombies and fight them face-to-face, how can you even think about smoking? Where’s the logic?”

For some reason, Jean found that funny. He smirked, lips curling around the cigarette that hung between his teeth, thankfully still unlit. “Don’t non-smokers die as soon as smokers do if zombies run after them?”

“That’s just stupid, Jean-”

“Is not!”

“Is so!”

“Is not!”

“ _Jean-_ ”

“Marco, I get that you’re worried, but you’re just overreacting at this point. Even I’d be worried if I did it excessively - but once in a while doesn't hurt!”

For once, I couldn’t think of anything to say that I hadn't said before. Annoyance and helplessness coiling up inside of me, I could only sigh tiredly, looking away at the grey, dingy block-like buildings before me. I started gnawing at my lips just to keep myself from retorting. _You just fixed your ties with him_ , I thought. _Don’t ruin what you have with him again_.

Even when my eyes didn’t meet his, I could feel his perplexed expression focused on me. I was about to apologize, until he sighed as well. He patted my shoulder twice. Squeezing it, he said, “Concern is always great, Marco, but you gotta start worrying less. Your hair’s gonna grow white like that.”

Ignoring my fluttering heartbeat, I managed a constrained laugh. “What else do you expect me to do, huh?”

The smile he gave this time was honest, and small. His eyes did more of the talking, shining like golden discs. “Trust me a bit more,” he said. “These things take some time, after all.”

I tried not to feel the warmth in his words, tried not to let his gaze shorten my breath. I tried not to let myself fall for him any more than I already had. But I was failing. Failing, and falling hard.

“Plus,” he added, shrugging nonchalantly, “It’s not as if I’m completely dumb or anything.”

“Oh, sure: you certainly haven't gotten lost in HQ-2 while going to the bathroom - _twice_.”

“That’s uncalled for, okay - this place is huge!”

“Dumb people always say that.”

“You little-”

“Hey guys,” cut in a new, much deeper voice. Turning around, I could see Reiner’s big silhouette in the darkness of the dorm room. He had his arms folded, judging us with his stare. “If you’re done bickering like an old married couple, then we can go back to training!”

Jean was complaining about our break being over already, while I was spluttering over the ‘ _old married couple_ ’ bit of Reiner’s speech, my face as red as a tomato. I was just about to automatically protest in my defense, until I saw Jean get up, dust his pants, and flick his cigarette out of the terrace. _Thank God!_

The relief must have been evident on my face, for Jean showed me that shit-eating grin of his again. He quirked an eyebrow up, and judged. “Wow, someone’s a little too pleased.”

Trying not to lose my composure again, I humphed. I got up as well, and walked out for yet another training session.

Of course I felt a surge of pride in my chest, more so when I felt him walk right beside me. _Of course I’m pleased,_ I thought. _I get to see you live another day._

_I saw you die once. I’m not gonna see that again._

 

*

 

Two nights ago, at 3 AM; that was when I had a dream about my friend.

3 AM. That was the hour of the night when I was clad in darkness from all corners. All I could hear was dead, eerie silence, pressing in around me. All I could feel was something hot and slick covering my skin, my lips. It was the hour when only a red glare lit up world, bright enough to illuminate a crumpled body. It almost looked like a torn up rag doll - until I saw his eyes.

3 AM. That was the hour of the night when I saw Jean Kirschtein die.

 

*

 

I didn’t have a dream like that again. All of my nightmares that came later were the usual ones; there would be pitch blackness covering every inch of me, and then there would be screams. Sometimes a stab of pain would rush through me; sometimes, I’d have to inflict the same kind of pain to others.

But that wretched dream never came again.

I was thankful for that much. Seeing it once was taxing enough; that day, I couldn’t stare at Jean without tearing up, or without wanting to hold him in my arms. There were countless of times when I’d see his smile, and would be reminded of the way his mouth had fallen agape around a wordless scream in my dream. There would be moments when I’d feel the heat beneath his skin, and remember how cold it had been in the darkness. There would be moments whe I'd see his bright eyes, and remember how they had been so void of life.

 _Breathe. Breathe_. Squeezing my eyes tight, I opened them, focusing on the task at hand, focusing on the real things; the punching bag swayed before my eyes. Grabbing for it with both hands, I started picking at the worn out leather, teeth gnawing at my lip.

 _Get it together_ , I told myself. Pressing my forehead against the bag, I took three deep breaths. I couldn’t let this get the best of me. I couldn’t let him notice, either.

Turning around, I spared a glance around me. Everyone was too busy honing their bodies, minds and souls to the one task we all held: the survival of humanity.  
Not too far from me, Jean was doing the same; his punches and kicks were a blur, but his gaze was unwavering and steel-like. There was a fire burning in him, anyone could tell. There was a determination set in his bones. There was life inside him.

That was more than enough reassurance for me to continue on.

 

Finally, our long, tiring training session came to an end. Everyone was panting hard, some even crumpling to the ground with how weary they felt. Some congratulated one another for yet another job well done, while others started giving tips and tricks to friends and rivals alike. I, on the other hand, rewarded myself with a bath.

Once clean and refreshed, I was thinking of the food the cafeteria lady might have cooked up for us. As I crossed the long, vacant hallway, I could see the sun setting below the horizon, shedding the world with dying colors of red and blue. The Wall was nothing but a jagged line, just a few inches thick. _It looks so small and insignificant_ , I thought. _And yet it's the only thing keeping us from freedom._

Shaking my head, I was just about to turn around another alley, but then something caught my eye. Just outside the window, I saw a narrow terrace, hidden so well I didn’t even notice it before. Someone was standing outside, someone of short stature, and a familiar mop of blond hair.

_Armin?_

Retracing my steps, I located the door leading outside, and opened in a little.  
It was indeed Armin, with his body hunched over the rusty railing. His gaze was cast down, staring at the narrow streets below. Apparently, he didn’t notice me entering.

It wasn’t until I called out his name, did he turn around. His blue eyes seemed startled when they saw me. But soon, they softened with familiarity. “Oh, it’s- it’s you,” he sighed.

“Yeah,” I said. “I hope I didn’t disturb you. I can leave if you want-”

“No, no, it’s okay! A little company doesn't hurt.” He stood up a little straighter. He let the silence persist for a little longer, and I didn’t mind. That was one thing I liked about him; he didn’t make it a necessity to always speak, to always waste energy in one way or the other. Anyone could spend time with him in utter silence, and it would never feel lonesome.

After a while, though, he spoke:

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here…?”

“Hm, well, it wouldn’t hurt if you told me.”

Laughing a little, he spoke, “Yeah, you’re right. Hm, well, I don’t know why I’m here, either - _heh_. I always find myself in any open space whenever I’m pensive; whenever- whenever it gets a little hard to breathe, y’know?”

I nodded. There was an unspoken sort of melancholy clouding Armin, like a bold aura. It didn’t suit him at all. It reminded me terribly of the cold loneliness I had been accustomed to once upon a time.

I couldn't help but go out of my way: “Is something wrong…?”

There was only silence from his side. I tried again. “You know you can trust me, Armin.”

That did the trick. Armin sighed raggedly, folding his arms over the railing this time. Nestling his chin on top, he stared at everything and at nothing. It was only after another moment of silence, that he started speaking:

“It’s nothing big, it’s just… I’m just worried whether the plan we told them would work or n-not.”

 _Ah, that_. I had almost forgotten about the route of escape Armin and I had given to the Commanders in person. An escape plan right through the sewer system, the one that had been run down ages ago. From my memory, it was the one place I’d use to hide from the zombies before, in the light of day. I had noticed how they stopped using the sewers once they learned of all other shortcuts throughout the city; once they grew bolder, more agile, and deadlier. It had no finesse or expertise quite like every other mission the Survey Corps had made - but from the way the zombies had memorized the entire fucking city, we were desperate for anything.

I told all this and more to Armin to reassure him. “And besides,” I added, “we gave the idea to the Commanders so that they’d improve it. Their our leaders, after all.”

“Yeah, but- but still. What if the zombies end up outsmarting us again?”

“You never know whether that’ll happen-”

“But have you seen the rate at which they evolve?” Armin suddenly cut in. He waved an arm over the darkening city before us. His eyes glazed with panic, as he said, “Zombies that were once just mindless and slow now have finished an entire city; how can you- I just-”

He was spluttering, suddenly short of breath. He clutched his head in his hands, and stood as still as a statue. After a while, he completed in a measly voice: “I just… I don’t want us to lose again.”

Sighing myself, I leaned against the railing as well, staring at the city I had called my own once upon a time. Lifeless and desolate, it was. Armin was right; the zombies had easily wiped the entire population clean. Of course they could turn any of our masterful plan right on its head. _Then what’s the point of it all?_ a small voice in my head said.

But then, I remembered a few, cherished words.

“You’re right, Armin. Nobody wants to lose, but… but in times like these, all you can do is trust humanity. Trust the Commanders that they’ll come up with a good plan, and trust your fellow cadets that they’ll fight beside you. Then you don’t have to shoulder any guilt. Then you- you don’t have to fight on your own.”

Armin was wordless. Wordless, and bewildered. There was shock in his eyes - but a certain degree of satisfaction, as well.

Just when he was about to say something, the door behind us opened. Eren was the one who came, ruffled and out of breath.

Before saying anything, he exhaled. “There you are - I knew you’d be here. Mikasa wasn’t convinced, though.”

Laughing, Armin waved him over, urging him to stand beside us. He complied very easily. Instead of leaning against the railing, though, he boldly sat on the edge, back just barely teetering over the edge. Armin was already going on about how he should get down, and how he’d break more than a few limbs if he fell. Eren, being as stubborn as he always was, refused to step down.

In between their bickering, I started laughing. “Seems to me you guys are pretty close.”

Neither of the two felt flustered. If anything, Eren smiled warmly, his green eyes glittering with something a lot like happiness. “Yeah, well, we’re like family. Him, Mikasa and I, we came here together. We plan on staying together.”

A soft gust of wind blew over the entire world. Silence befell everything, as the world darkened to a deep blue. Not a single star lit up the sky, but there was something peaceful about the evening nonetheless. Breathing in, I ended up asking the one question I’ve always wanted to ask:

“Could I ask how you guys came here?”

A quiet conversation passed between the two, in which Eren gave Armin a stare, and he nodded in reply. Sighing himself, Eren knotted his fingers together. Looking at his feet, he started, “It’s nothing grand, or anything. It was a few years ago. Armin, Mikasa and I were playing around in the park when the news about a zombie infestation spread through our district. We didn’t believe it at first; kids loved making up stories, didn’t they? But it was true: zombies had spread throughout the city, and they were spreading fast.  
“We rushed to our home, and the first thing we see is Mom, packing our things in a bag for us. I remembered asking, _‘Mom, what are you doing? Where are we going?’_ She explained how we were being relocated for our safety, and that kids were being sent out first.”

His voice grew thick when he gulped. “She handed me and Mikasa our things, and waited till Armin had gotten his own belongings, too. Then she took us outside to a truck. It was filled with kids, women and old people. Mom said she couldn’t fit in that one, so she’d come on the next. Everything was so- so rushed, like a blur, and then-”

Almost by instinct, Armin held his hands, gripping them so tight his knuckles went white. Eren fell silent for a long moment. I almost regretted my decision of asking such a question in the first place, until Eren continued.

His voice shook, but he kept on speaking: “We were taken to a hidden bunker, one of the Survey Corps’ own. There we found out that not everyone was so lucky to get a safe spot like us. We found out that Mom never made it onto the other truck. We found out that our entire district fell under attack by the zombies only a day after we left.”

My heart felt like lead, making my chest ache. Almost magnetically, Eren and Armin leaned against each other, supporting one another like an anchor.

“Two years later, we enrolled ourselves in the Corps,” said Armin softly. “We couldn't just leave and do nothing. We had to help revive humanity, no- no matter how slim the chance may seem.”

A slim chance? I rolled those words around in my brain, looking over Trost once again. Seeing how only zombies could wipe out an entire city, a ‘ _slim chance_ ’ seemed more like an impossibility. And yet...

Another gust of wind blew over us, this one colder than the last. There was silence otherwise, almost as if we were the only ones breathing.

And then, from afar, came a lone, inhumane howl.

“Do you ever think we’ll ever be able to kill the last zombie?” asked Armin, in a voice as soft as a whisper. “Do you ever think we’ll be able to win…?”

I ended up replying before I could even register it myself:

“We have to, or we die trying. We’re not alone, after all.”

Those were simple, almost clichéd words. But I meant every fucking syllable I spoke: we had to win. We had to try. We were not alone.

(A certain someone had assured me of that, after all.)

Maybe Eren and Armin didn’t believe me - but the smile they gave me was genuine nonetheless.

 

When it got too dark to see anything, we returned into the hallway. However, as soon as we took three steps, a guard stepped before us. In a thick accent, he ordered us to gather in the training room - for there was going to be an important announcement.

The order must have been sudden and urgent; as soon as we stepped out in the Main Area, I was met with a wave of cadets, all rushing out of their rooms and spots. Down the railing, I could see the Main Area, bustling thick with noisy cadets and guards alike, all heading towards the training room. Their expressions spoke the questions they refused to ask, like an unspoken curse - _what’s the sudden rush? Why are we being summoned suddenly? What’s going on?_

Once we entered the training room, I noticed how all the dusty mattresses and half torn mannequins were stacked and pushed against the farthest wall. By the time I filed in beside the other cadets of the Survey Corps, the old anxiety returned to snap back at me. So far, any and every kind of ‘ _special announcement_ ’ had only ever caused me to lose sleep day by day; from learning that I was the only one alive left in the entirety of Trost, till the day we found out that the Western Wing had fallen, nothing of any substance did really bring our hopes up. We were drained to say the least. Any other bad news, and I feared that the entire Survey Corps would lose their faith in survival.

 _Relax, Marco_ , I told myself, swallowing the bundle of nerves clogging my throat. Exhaling through my mouth slowly, I spared a look around me, in the hopes that meeting eyes with someone would somehow calm my racing heart.

A sea of faces, it looked like. A sea of confused, aggravated, fearful faces. Despite almost everyone being there, I couldn't see anyone recognizable. Strangers, crowding around me. They all felt like strangers for the worst second. There was no way to control the unyielding tension coiling away in the pit of my stomach, snapping at any moment-

Just when I glanced to my far left, I saw a pair of familiar eyes fixated on me, only on me. I recognized those warm, amber eyes in a heartbeat.

Jean nodded at me questioningly. _You okay?_

I wish I could have smiled back and said ‘ _Yes, of course_ ,’ or ‘ _yeah, I’ve handled worse_.’ I wish I could have at least nodded back at him, sharing some of the strength he could give so easily.

But I didn't have it in me. I could only shake my head pitifully.

The guilt was ready to reopen previous wounds when I felt my weakness echo within me, gnawing at my insides like a hungry animal. Being so used to the feeling, I was ready to give in.

But before the claws could even touch me, Jean smiled. From afar, with a hundred cadets swarming in between us, he mouthed the words: _it’ll be okay._

My fingers no longer quivered with fear.

I couldn’t wrench my gaze off of him until I heard every cadet stomp their feet hard against the floor, greeting the oncoming Officer of HQ-2, Mike Zacharius himself. With the grace and rigidity of a seasoned soldier, he nodded at the crowd before him, as he stopped in front of our files.

“At ease, cadets,” he said, voice hard and bold. “I would have liked to share the news as softly as I could, but I’m afraid I will have to cut to the chase: these are trying times that we are facing. Much more trying than the ages we have seen, being one of the first cadets here. It has come to our attention that with our old methods, we’ll be dead before we even dream of our chance of survival.”

Swallowing, I tried to maintain my breath. Officer Mike continued:

“But this is no time for us to panic. Now is the perfect time for us to stand our ground, and face the facts for what they are: those zombies can no longer be considered as mindless creatures. They might be as smart as us. And we need to end them before they end us.  
The Scientific Wing, as you all know, excels at finding out the chinks within the armor that the zombies wear; they are the best at informing us of their strengths and weaknesses. There is no playing around the fact that they play a pivotal role in our defense and offense.”

Armin edged his face closer to mine, and whispered, “What does that have to do with anything right now?”

He got his answer as soon as he asked his question:

“The Scientific Wing has requested us to leave HQ-2, and join their forces,” said Officer Mike. “They pointed out how we’re obviously short of cadets, and we insisted that we’re running short of supplies. They promised us that they would feed us in with new things they’ve found out about the zombies, and they would equip us with the latest technology they possess. So the decision was inevitable; the Commanders have decided to leave HQ-2 after two weeks. We'll be heading over to the Scientific Wing directly, and from there we will take the initiatives to eliminate all zombies.  
I need not remind you all how important this mission is. We will be taking a leap towards revival this way. This mission is as grave as the last mission you all took part in, if not grander. Humanity’s survival depends on you succeeding this task, after all. Nonetheless - are there any questions?”

I had a million and one questions buzzing through my mind. So did many others; that much was obvious from the way every recruit glanced warily at their partners. Surprisingly enough, they all were smart enough to keep their mouths shut. Asking queries was one thing - voicing out fears and regrets was something completely different.

So I kept myself quiet, as did many others. As the Officer ran his eyes over the masses, calmly considering each and every one with the precision of a hawk, it seemed as if that would be the end of it.

But then, the stagnancy broke. One defiant hand raised itself, high up in the air.

Officer Mike caught it. A little confused, he ordered. “Your name, cadet.”

“Annie Leonhardt, Officer.”

“And what seems to be your question?”

“Why has the Scientific Wing called us so suddenly?”

Her solid voice rung in the air, making the tension strung so tight quiver dangerously. It seemed as if she had voiced the one thought everyone was thinking. And even so, with the way Officer Mike fell silent, I couldn't help but gulp dryly.

Finally, he spoke again, this time stepping closer to our file. “Cadet, step forward, and elaborate yourself.”

Without even a pause for breath, Annie slithered through the gaps between the lines of cadets, emerging out into the open. As she joined her heels attentively, Officer Mike walked towards her. His ominous silence was an invitation for her to continue speaking, and so she did:

“I’m curious as to why it took so long for the Scientific Wing to call us at their place. Since it seems that they are well-informed of the zombies’ advancements, they should have called us directly at the Scientific Wing - then we might have never had to lose our fellow cadets.”

Anyone could have felt the breath everyone held in their chests, too fixated by fear to gasp out. Despite being honest, that was too fucking direct.

Officer Mike, however, was unfazed. Though a sweat bordered his forehead, he simply flicked it away. With a cool gaze, he said, “Annie, it almost seems as if you’re questioning our strategy so far - our very core.”

“No sir, that was never my intent. I only voiced out a question most of us might have been wanting to ask.”

Clasping his hands behind his back, he said, “And that is most noble of you, cadet. I do applaud you on that. But there's something you must learn: before you say anything, always take a good look around yourself.”

I did the same myself, and I couldn't believe what I saw. There were some people who were so shocked that they shook their heads in disagreement; but there were some who bit their lip, some choice cadets who gazed at their feet with hardened expressions. Along with the thick tension, there came another unpleasant feeling. It saturated the air, making it hard to breathe - it felt a lot like deception. (Was the defiant wall we called ourselves finally crumbling?)

Rigid as always, Annie didn’t let her hard, blue gaze waver with fear. She only lifted her chin higher, and addressed directly: “Officer Mike, you can’t help but think of ways of saving your friends.”

“But disregarding their efforts of saving humanity so blatantly with a simple ‘ _what if_ ’ is something very cowardly,” said Officer Mike. “Inciting fear in such a time, it can be unhealthy. It is time you remember the ones that you lost by fighting in the present; the Scientific Wing is going to help us with that, so we no longer have to lose anyone else. Now does that answer your question?”

Annie was far from done. That much was evident from the way she held her hands in stark white fists. But from the way the Officer refused to back off, judging her with his own gaze like steel, she had to nod. She had to surrender.

“Good,” he said, with a quirk of his lip.

 

*

 

It was as if we were entirely robbed of our voices after that.

Once we were dismissed, nobody spoke a word. We all saluted Officer Mike, and that was that. Most went back to their dorms, dragging their feet as they did. Some, however, went to find warmth in the form of food.  
Me and most of other familiar faces went to the cafeteria, though nobody spoke so much as a single word. And nobody even tried.

Wordlessly, we took our trays of food, and sat at random tables. We started eating right away, though I was sure I couldn’t taste a single fucking thing.

Finally, among everybody, it was Connie who broke the silence:

“What the fuck just happened?”

He might have asked the one question everybody was wondering.

Ymir found it appropriate to reply: “We were told to pack our bags, because we’re leaving on another mission soon - what else?”

“Not that!” said Sasha. She pointed her spoon at Ymir, and started, “He’s asking about Annie! Did you hear what she said? Talk about having balls!”

Christa didn’t speak until she was sure that Annie wasn’t there. “Technically, what she said was logical…”

“Annie’s always been… er… cold towards everyone - I was surprised to see her show concern for us.”

“That’s not even the matter, Connie,” said Christa. “What I mean is that she was right: why did the Scientific Wing suddenly call us? They should have called us there directly if it was always so dire, right?”

Jean, with his plate empty, started rubbing his chin, deep in thought. He had his hoodie over his head, so the dim lights plastered on the walls cast deep shadows across his face. He finally spoke, “Hm, you’re right - but you have to admit: the route would have been much longer.”

“Yeah,” said Mikasa, “We would have had many more casualties if we went there directly.”

That made Christa stop and think, but Bertholdt fired back: “But Annie pointed out something else, too. She asked why they called us suddenly - meaning why were they never part of the picture to begin with? And you sorta end up thinking the same, don’t you...?”

Indeed, everybody did. If the Scientific Wing was such a pivotal role for our strategies, why were they never directly involved to help us? If they were always so advanced, why didn’t they help us out sooner? If they were so powerful, why were they willing to save us only after we had lost our friends?  
Each toxic question piled up in my mind, one after another, till it became hard to breath. I held my head in my hand, massaging away at an ache that had no beginning, and no end. Just when I thought it was too much, I heard Connie’s voice again.

It was almost as if he were talking to himself. But with how silent the world around us was, even a stray thought kept in your heart could be heard as loud as a clap of thunder.

“Man, this means we have to face them again.”

 _Them_. Of course he was talking about the one thing that had stolen our freedom: zombies.

I couldn’t help but spare a look around me. I wasn’t surprised to see shadows cast across each and every face; even the ones that were always bright and full of life. Mikasa, Eren, Connie, Sasha, Armin, even Petra… they all no longer looked like the brave soldiers I had seen before, the ones who saved me.

I didn’t dare look at Jean - not like this.

Connie continued, “I know you guys think I’m the coward, here, but… Whenever we have to fight them, I always wonder if this’ll be the last time I’ll get to be alive. I might be soundin’ crazy, it’s just- when you have to fight things that don’t make sense, things that have killed friends and family… it’s scary.”

Ah, of course. The thought was so simple, so cruel, I could have cackled maniacally: we’re just kids. We had no idea whether we’ll be able to see the other side of the wall. We had no idea whether we’ll live that long or not. We had to fight things we feared, things we couldn’t understand even if we tried. We were taught to believe in a bright future, all while being thrown in the dark. There was no twisting the simple fact: we’re all scared of death. We’re just _kids_.

“You’re not a coward for feeling fear, Connie,” I said, a string of thought coming right from my heart. Licking my lips, I looked at Connie. His eyes were glazy, but attentive. “If anything, we’re all scared - God knows the times I’ve thought about dying whenever I used to run away from those zombies. Back then, though, there was only me. But… but now it’s different, because now, I know I’m not alone anymore.”

I glanced around me, glad to see others smile, albeit with a little helplessness. Yet, the only thing that caught me off guard was a smile, and a warm, amber gaze.

“He’s right, y’know,” said Petra, all of a sudden. Everybody turned their heads to look at their caretaker, she who sat at a lone table to the right. She got up, approaching us with slow, measured steps.

Her smile was as warm as always. “I know you are afraid, but the fact that all of you feel the same shows how you’re all in this together. So he’s right: you all have each other. You protect each other in every mission, don’t you? You don’t let those nasty fuckers hurt your friends, huh?”

Sasha snorted at her gaudy language, but Petra pretended not to notice. She only ruffled her red mop of hair endearingly, after which she said, “Look at yourself, guys. You’re _alive_ ; after fighting hundreds of zombies, and after having fought a few more, here you are - still alive and healthy. You aren't ordinary. So don’t worry... you all are the bravest kids I’ve ever had the honor to care for. You’re gonna be okay.”

We all looked at each other.

_You’re gonna be okay._

_Hey, we’re gonna be okay._

_It’s gonna be okay._

 

It wasn’t long before the cafeteria began clearing up. One after the other, cadets started leaving, calling it a day. They were yawning, cracking their weary bones, but they left satisfied. Armin waved me a goodbye, as I made my way to return my plates. Just as I placed it on the bench, I heard Jean speak up:

“What you told Connie was really wise.”

I smiled back at him. “Yeah, well, don't think I'm some philosopher…”

“Even if you weren't, what you said worked, didn’t it?”

Nodding, I made my way towards Jean. Thankfully, we were the only two people left in the entire room. Spending some time with him was always reassuring, even if for a little while. It helped me forget.

Sitting beside him, I said, “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I used to tell that to my sister all the time…”

“Sister?” asked Jean, genuinely curious. “You never told me about your siblings.”

“Oh, right,” I said. “I had a younger sister, and a brother; both were twins. My sister used to be afraid of the dark when she was little, but she never talked about it to anyone, not even my parents. But of course, I’d notice. So one day I asked her, _‘why don’t you tell mom?’_ She said, _‘because I don’t want her to think I’m a coward’_. That was when I told her that being a coward isn't… isn’t something to be embarrassed about, y’know? Everyone’s afraid of something, in the end.”

Jean pulled his hoodie back to reveal his brassy hair. Leaning back against the table comfortably, he crossed his arms behind his head. “Hm, what could Marco Bodt be afraid of?”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” I retorted. “I answered one question of yours, so now you have to answer one of mine.”

“Oh, so that’s how the rule goes?” he smirked. Cupping his chin, he leaned close. “Okay then, Bodt. Shoot.”

Tapping my chin twice, I took a full two minutes just thinking, before I asked the one question I had always wanted to ask him ever since I joined the Survey Corps:

“Why do you wear that mask?”

For some reason, that caught Jean off guard. “My mask? Really?”

“Yes, c’mon, tell me!”

Jean stared at me, as if I were pulling some prank. But seeing me genuinely interested, he shrugged, before saying, “You’re gonna laugh…”

“No I won’t - tell!”

“Okay, okay, jeez!” he waved a hand. Sighing, he pulled the cloth out of his pocket. Even in the dim lights, I could make out the white, gleaming teeth, pulled back in a sick, twisted smile.

He was running his fingers over the pattern, when he started speaking, “I actually killed my first zombie while wearing this. Back then, I was scared shitless - I couldn’t even stare at them for more than two seconds without wanting to run. So that day, I saw this laying around in one of the shops we were hunting around in. The teeth reminded me of the way those zombies would smile at me whenever I’d run, mocking me. So I thought, _‘if I wear this, then those zombies would be afraid of me. Then I could finally kill them’_. And I don't know, but… when I did wear this, I could literally feel my fear just vanishing, like it was nothing. I felt so invincible back then… So I never threw it away ever since; it helps me remember that I can be brave, even when I think I can’t.”

I was at a loss for words. When Jean noticed my speechlessness, he took it the wrong way. He grew beet red, and turned the other way. “I told you it was gonna sound stupid!”

“N-no!” I stuttered. “I didn’t say it was. I just found it… fascinating.”

Once Jean was convinced that I wasn’t joking around, he finally allowed himself to smile. Almost bashfully, he nudged my shoulder with his own, he said, “Okay, now tell me - what are you afraid of?”

My fears? I had so many: zombies, death, fire, etcetera. How could you pick your own fear, the one thing you couldn’t face?

When I glanced at Jean, I looked at the way the warm light carved through the hollowness of his cheeks, and across his chin. I looked at the way his eyes gleamed with life, dancing like a candle flame in the wind. I look at Jean Kirschtein, and was instantly reminded of his corpse. Cold, broken, lifeless.

I looked at him, and was instantly reminded of the way my heart stopped beating when I saw his body. I remembered how hopeless I felt when I knew that I couldn’t do anything to save him.

_I’m afraid of that dream, that nightmare. I’m afraid of seeing you like that._

_I’m afraid of seeing you die._

_I’m afraid of losing you._

“I- I’m afraid of losing people that I love.”

That was good enough for Jean, for he smiled.

 

*

 

It was almost midnight when I got ready for bed. By then, everyone in the dorm room was deep in sleep; Eren and Connie were having a snoring contest. Christa was curled up in a tight ball, while Sasha laid star-fished.  
Jean was fast asleep, as well. He never had that type of trouble; all he had to do was close his eyes. I smiled a little when I caught him snoring.

_Ah, you’re in so deep, aren’t you?_

Shaking my head, I laid on my bed. Closing my eyes, I could have almost fallen asleep, in the hopes of not seeing any nightmare for once.

That was when I heard whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I owe an apology to everyone.
> 
> I'm so immensely sorry for not updating this fic for a year. You guys cannot imagine just how busy I had been throughout the year. So much happened so suddenly - you can say I got caught up with life, haha.  
> But in the end, I made it through! just barely, but i did! After going through the longest writer's block ever, I finally came through with this chapter!
> 
> You guys wont believe me, but this was the one chapter I was most excited to write ever since I started this fic - I finally got to show u guys some of the other characters!!
> 
> You can follow me on my [tumblr](http://kirschtrash.tumblr.com/) and [twitter!](https://twitter.com/kirschtrash)
> 
> So tell me how I did by commenting! I'm open for any kind of criticism, a well! <3

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I'm writing something huge like this. I hope you enjoyed this. I am very enthusiastic about this fic, and will work a lot to make it work! :D
> 
> Share this with your friends or anyone you know who is a crazy ATTACK ON TITAN fan, or better; a Jeanmarco shipper. Give this Kudos, or a review to tell me about this!
> 
> I'm on tumblr: captaink-irschtein is the name.


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